Tim Ihansha – Adventures at Hogwarts
by Tyler Nator
Summary: A Muggle teaching at Hogwarts? When the world of magic is threatened by Lord Voldemort, there is only one who can save the world – and it's not Harry Potter! Join Tim Ihansha – the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts, as he turns the world of magic upside down, and looks good while doing it.
1. And So The Adventure Begins

The light of the moon gently touched the calm, still waters in the valley surrounding Hogwarts Castle. Had it not been for the ravenous thunder and lightning, as well as the lack of students, it would have been just another night for the staff of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Well, there was also one other thing. Something that made this night a night unlike any other.

Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts had called some of the other staff, who happened to be working before the new school year had officially begun, into his office for a meeting. The meeting, for anyone listening in, would've been incredibly boring and not at all noteworthy. In truth, it was rather, at least until talked turned to that of a young boy.

"…What of young Harry?"

"We've been sending those letters for a while, but we haven't gotten any replies." A middle-aged woman, Professor Minerva McGonagall sadly informed.

"Maybe leaving him with the Dursleys wasn't such a good idea. What if they're hiding the letters from him? Hiding Harry's _destiny_ from him?"

"No… They wouldn't do that," Minerva McGonagall said. "No one would do such a selfish act as that, not when Harry might be the only one who can save us…"

"Wait, I know someone even better…" Dumbledore's voice was a low drawl, the attention of the Hogwarts staff directed to him. "He's a Muggle, but-"

"Are you _serious_?!" a voice cried out, none other than Severus Snape. "A _Muggle_? You're putting our fate in the hands of a _Muggle_?! He won't even be able to _see_ Hogwarts!"

"He may be a Muggle, but his power is far beyond that of the normal skill that Muggles possess. Believe me, he'll have no trouble seeing Hogwarts and he'll be a great asset to our cause."

"How do you know he'll help us?" Minerva McGonagall asked, willing to put her faith in Dumbledore, no matter how outlandish it all may have seemed at face value.

Dumbledore smiled. "We have a long history together. I know he'll help if I ask…" Dumbledore turned to face one, Rubeus Hagrid, who was slumped over and looked to be fighting off sleep. "Hagrid!" Dumbledore called, his voice waking Hagrid from his state almost immediately.

"Ah! Y-ye want me to go get Harry?" he asked suddenly, getting up out of his seat.

"No… There's someone else I want you to go and summon for me…" Dumbledore instructed, also getting up out of his seat. He walked over to a drawer, fishing around until he found an old and dusty map. Looking at it reverently, he quickly took it from its place and gave it to Hagrid. "I want you to go to the location marked on the map. There should be someone there, the person I've been describing."

"The _Muggle_ …" Snape muttered.

"If you tell him that Albus has requested his services, I'm sure he'll be willing to assist. But you must hurry, we have little time!"

"O'course. I'll leave first thing in the mornin'!" Hagrid agreed.

"I'm afraid that won't be soon enough. You have to leave now."

"If ye insist…" he mumbled, his voice tinged with disappointment. Nevertheless, Hagrid clenched the map in his hand and left hurriedly, bumping into an old camphor chest on the way out of Dumbledore's office.

* * *

Hagrid flew through the mountain range, the enchanted motorcycle, owned by Sirius Black and currently on loan to him, carrying him through the air, the wind blowing through his beard, wild and unkempt.

At the summit of a mountain, a mighty roar broke through the silence, the sheer volume of which caused Hagrid to tremble ever so slightly with a feeling he couldn't describe.

"This has to be the place…" Hagrid muttered under his breath. Without thinking, he changed course, heading straight in the direction the sound had come from.

The further in that Hagrid went, the rougher the terrain seemed to become. As he came upon a plateau, Hagrid was greeted by another powerful roar, the source finally identified, a figure, who happened to be standing on the plateau. The figure had their back turned to Hagrid. Whoever it was sighed a heavy sigh as Hagrid settled on the plateau with his motorcycle touching the ground.

Almost as if sensing his presence, the figure, a man, turned to face Hagrid.

"What do you want?" the man asked. "I'm practicing karate, and I don't like being interrupted."

Hagrid studied the man in front of him. He was tan, large and muscular, at least for someone who wasn't a giant. Spiky orange hair, like fire, was tied into a ponytail to keep away from his eyes while training. Gi pants adorned the bottom half of his form, the leggings frayed at the ends. Even from eye contact alone, Hagrid could tell that his eyes, and in fact his entire being, burned with a passion, an unbridled and righteous fury. His presence was almost overbearing. This man was indeed the one that Dumbledore was after.

What struck Hagrid to be the most peculiar about the man though, was some sort of mark poking out from the sports bra he was wearing. "Can I ask, why are ye wearin' a sports bra?"

"How am I supposed to stop _these_ bad boys from bouncing?" the man smiled, reaching up and cupping his pecks. After bringing his hands away, he tensed his body, his muscles rippling for just a second as the sports bra tore off, revealing his bare chest which glistened with sweat.

Hagrid stood wide-eyed, in awe of the virtual Adonis in front of him. He had to use almost all of his willpower to stop himself from bowing down to the God-like figure and eternally admonishing him. His eyes zeroed in on the mark across the man's chest, a huge jagged scar above his stomach in the shape of a lightning bolt.

"You…" Hagrid muttered, almost without even thinking. "Who are you…?"

"Tell me your name first!" the man ordered.

"Hagrid. My name's Hagrid."

"That's a weird name, but no matter! _My_ first name is Tim. You don't need to know my last." The man said. "But I have a question for you: why are you interrupting my training? Have you come here to challenge me?" he smirked, his eyes ablaze with the fury of a thousand suns. "I have to admit, it's been quite some time since I've had an actual challenge. I hope for your sake you don't end up like the rest."

"The rest?" Hagrid asked. Tim simply pointed to a pile of bones resting gently in a heap across from him.

"Those. They are the rest. Now come, the time for talk is over…" Tim muttered, assuming a deep fighting stance.

"W-wait! No!" Hagrid shouted suddenly. "I'm not 'ere to fight you! Albus sent me! Albus Dumbledore!" he explained.

Tim dropped his stance almost instantly, a smile working across his face. "Dumbledore… That old guy is _still_ alive? I haven't seen him in ages…"

"So y'are the one then?" Hagrid asked.

"That depends. What's Albus want? What's in it for me?"

"Please, hear me. All of Hogwarts… no, the entire _world_ needs your help! H… He who must not be named… he'll return soon…"

Tim reached up, his right hand against his chest, fingers unconsciously touching his scar. "…Voldemort, huh? Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm- _we're_ certain! Why do ye ask?"

"I thought I killed him already…" Tim murmured.

" _Wh_ - _what_?!" Hagrid shouted incredulously. "But that isn't possible!"

Before Hagrid could say anything else, he felt two powerful arms grasp his clothing as Tim pulled the giant forcefully towards him. " _Don't_ you tell _me_ what is or isn't possible! _I_ will tell you what is or isn't possible!" Tim threw Hagrid back, the latter staggering about before collapsing into the pile of bones. "Enough of this monkey business! Take me to Albus! If Voldemort really is alive, we need to deal with him _now_. _I_ need to deal with him now."

Hagrid got to his feet, still a little shaken. "Okay, get into my side car."

Tim laughed. "No need. I have my own set of wheels." Tim walked behind some nearby rocks as the sound of a monstrous motor ripped through the air. The rocks broke apart as Tim, now atop a Triumph Motorbike, charged across the mountain and straight over the edge.

It took Hagrid a moment longer than it should have for him to react, and by the time he did, he thought for sure that Hogwarts' supposed savior had plunged to his death. Hagrid rushed to the edge of the plateau. Instead of the carnage he expected to see, he saw Tim crashing through the trees of the surrounding forest, his speed unrelenting.

Tim pulled to a stop at the base of the mountain. "Well!? Are you coming or what!?" he yelled.

Sweat formed on Hagrid's brow. "Why would Dumbledore trust this man?" he said to himself. "He's _obviously_ insane!" Hagrid sighed, his eyes drawn to the stump of a tree, and then to several boulders cracked neatly in half. "But then again… He did say he was training 'ere, and by the looks of things, he's obviously _very_ powerful…"

Hagrid smiled inwardly to himself, walking over to Sirius's motorcycle and getting on, flying above the path of destruction that Tim had left.

Tim looked back, watching Hagrid ascend to the sky. Turning around to face the horizon, Tim could sense that whatever was waiting for him, be it Voldemort or any other potential threat, would finally end his streak of boredom, and awaken his warrior's spirit. Tim revved his motorbike, speeding off into the vast unknown.


	2. More Than A Muggle

"Ah, Tim! It's so good to see you again…" Dumbledore greeted, his hand meeting Tim's as they shook, Tim seated across from Dumbledore in his office.

"You too, though I can see the years haven't been kind." Tim verbally observed. "I thought being a wizard and all, you'd have made yourself younger."

"Youth exudes inexperience, old friend. I trust you had a pleasant trip?" Dumbledore asked, more out of politeness than anything else.

"I did, though Hagrid was a little loud. Plus, I think I hit a pedestrian on the way in. Some guy in a purple turban. He should be okay though," Tim sighed. "It was just a flesh wound. Although, I think I might've torn his head off…" Tim mumbled.

"What?!" Dumbledore asked, a raised concern.

"Nothing…" Tim muttered.

Dumbledore shook his head, before leaning forward in his seat. "Tim, I know it all seems sudden, me summoning you here after us not seeing each other for umpteen years, but you know I wouldn't ask for your help if we weren't almost out of options."

"I get that," Tim said. "If you just show me where Voldemort is, I'll take care of him."

"This isn't just a quick visit, Tim. You know how Voldemort works. It'll take time for him to appear, but when he does, we'll be ready. That said, I need an excuse for having you here in the meantime."

"Meantime? I'm not staying here. I just want to kill Voldemort."

"Yes, and to kill Voldemort we need to work together, and we need to wait. It's imperative that you remain here at Hogwarts." Dumbledore asserted.

Tim grumbled to himself as the door handle to Dumbledore's office rattled, the door almost flying open a moment later, Severus Snape quickly walking into the room, Minerva McGonagall following him in. "Albus, we need to talk." Snape said bluntly.

"I tried to tell him that you were in the middle of a meeting, but he said it was urgent." Minerva McGonagall explained.

"It's quite alright." Dumbledore dismissed.

"Who's this rat-faced twat?" Tim asked, causing Snape to glare at him.

"Tim, this is Professor Severus Snape, Potions teacher here at Hogwarts. To his left is Transfiguration teacher, Head of Gryffindor House, and Deputy Headmistress Professor Minerva McGonagall. Severus, Minerva, this is Tim Ihansha, the person I was telling you about."

"Charmed, I'm sure." Tim smiled, catching the eyes of Minerva McGonagall, who found herself blushing madly over the incredibly attractive young man.

"Ah…" Snape's face formed a smile. "The _Muggle_ …" Snape turned to Tim. "Well, know this: whatever the reason is that Dumbledore praises you, I'll let you know that I don't."

Tim felt himself start to lose control as he heard Snape use that derogatory term, but acted as though it didn't bother him. "Whatever…" Tim murmured through clenched teeth. "Hurry this up, will you?" Tim turned to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore swallowed. "Yes, of course. We've got an opening in the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Do you have any experience with teaching?" Dumbledore asked.

"No, but I can give it a go. Teaching shouldn't be too hard…"

"That's _ridiculous_!" Snape barked. "You _know_ I've been after that position! And to offer it to a _Muggle_ who has no teaching experience at all without so much as a second thought is just _insulting_!"

And that was it. Whatever politeness or courtesy that Tim had been showing left him instantly as he rose from his seat. "I'm going to pretend that I didn't just hear you use the M-word for the second time. If you've got a problem with me, we can sort it out with our fists, like men!" Tim snapped, his eyes piercing through Snape's very own.

"You child! You can swing around your fists as much as you want, but brute strength will _always_ fall against magic."

Tim smirked. "Well if you're so sure, why don't you fight me. Your magic against my fists!"

"Both of you, enough! We must unite against our common enemy, Voldem-" Dumbledore's words were cut short as Tim backhanded him out of his chair and onto the floor, sprawled, the elderly wizard writhing around in pain.

McGonagall hurried to Dumbledore, while Snape and Tim stood opposite each other. Tim suddenly grabbed Snape by his clothes. "If your magic can beat me, I'll let you teach my class. But when I win, I want you out of my face."

"You're a daft fool if you think you can win! I accept your challenge!"

* * *

The staff of Hogwarts crowded hurriedly into the practice hall where the raised dueling platform was occupied by the two men who were almost ready to begin. Tim faced Snape, still adorned in his clothes from when Hagrid met him, a stern and menacing expression on his face. Snape was put off, just a little bit, by Tim's eagerness to fight.

Dumbledore sat high above the two combatants, looking back and forth between the two with a worried expression on his face.

"I'll referee this match, but for the record, I'm still not in agreeance with this idea." Dumbledore caressed his cheek, still sore from Tim's powerful strike. Tim shot Dumbledore a glance, rearing his hand back as if threatening to hit Dumbledore again. He noticed this, and flinched back in his seat in fear.

"Hurry up and tell us when we can begin!" Tim yelled.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Tim, I'm expecting that you hold back in this match. We need every able-bodied wizard, witch, and magical creature to help us in this fight. If you end up causing serious damage again-"

"Trust me. I've been holding back this whole time. If I hadn't, you'd all be dead by now…" Tim chuckled.

"Very well then… maybe… Ready? _Begin_!"

Tim didn't need to be told twice. Tim brought his arms up across his chest, and then with a tremendous yell, threw them back down, his fighting presence negating any action from Snape.

Although his wand was drawn, Snape seemed almost frozen opposite Tim, whose killing intent was equal to that of a thousand cosmic tigers.

"Well…!" Tim called. "I'm waiting…!"

His voice brought Snape back, the latter moving his wand above his head, a blue light forming at the tip. An incantation escaping his lips, Snape launched his hand forward. " _Flipendo_!" he cried, the shimmering ball shooting forward and striking Tim squarely in the chest.

It was perhaps one of the weakest spells used for combat, though nothing that a Muggle would've been able to stand up to. Or at least, that's what Snape thought. Tim's body failed to budge even an inch, and only served to irritate both combatants – Snape because he assumed Tim would be easy prey to a Flipendo Knockback Jinx, and Tim because he assumed, with Snape's talk, that he'd actually pose a challenge against him.

"That it?" Tim asked. "Why don't you try again?"

Snape's eyes twitched for a moment. " _Vermillious_!" he shouted, a flurry of sparks, red and orange, rising from the tip of Snape's wand and washing over Tim's body. Just like Snape's earlier spell, Vermillious was one of the weakest spells for combat, but would have, no, _should_ have severely damaged, if not killed Tim outright as he was, by all appearances, just a Muggle.

Again, Tim just stood his ground, taking the hit like a boss, to the amazement of the Hogwarts staff.

One of the teachers, a witch adorned in red by the name of Septima Vector, called out in surprise "Since when do Muggles have _this_ strong an aura?!"

"You can have one more shot… then I'm through playing around!" Tim shouted.

" _Incendio_!" Snape roared, his wand poised at Tim, flames rising all around him, ensnaring Tim as the fire grew, almost wrapping around him violently. There was no escape for Tim this time, as the staff of Hogwarts looked on in horror, some thinking that Snape had gone a little too far.

The fire continued to burn brightly, but what Snape, Dumbledore and the rest of the staff at Hogwarts didn't pick up on at first, was that the fire, though not growing, was edging closer to Snape. His eyes widened as the sound of footsteps broke through the sound of cracking fire, Tim's hand reaching out through the flames and gripping Snape's neck.

"My turn…!" Tim's voice spoke. Snape didn't have any time to prepare as Tim's other hand came through, and with one punch, knocked the Potions Professor out cold. With a vicarious cry, Tim widened his stance, the fires around him slowly beginning to dissipate. Once the fires had died, a silence fell over the staff of Hogwarts. Tim reached down, hoisting Snape's unconscious body up by his collar. "Do I win?" Tim asked softly, turning to Dumbledore.

"Ye…yes…" he muttered. Tim smiled, dropping Snape's body to the ground without a care. "Someone take him to the infirmary!" Dumbledore ordered before looking back at Tim. "As for you, I need you to come with me…"

* * *

Tim once again found himself in Dumbledore's office, sitting opposite the Headmaster. He thought perhaps that Dumbledore would reprimand him for the incredibly quick, vicious and awesome beatdown he gave Snape, but that was not the case.

Not at all.

"It's clear, after seeing your display of power, you're the one, the _only_ one, I can trust for a task of this magnitude." Dumbledore retrieved a red, rough-cut-looking stone from his pocket, the item shimmering even in the darkness of Dumbledore's office. Delicately, Dumbledore placed the stone into Tim's hand. "Voldemort is after this stone, but he must not have it. We initially had an extremely tedious security system to protect the stone, but we later realized that this was an expensive and unnecessary draw on school resources. I think you would be much better-suited in keeping this stone safe."

"No problémo, Dumblebro…!" Tim smiled.

* * *

Tim sat at the High Table in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, in preparation for the Start-of-Term Feast. He was almost in awe of what was laid out in front of him. Hundreds of candles, perhaps more, hovered above the tables in the hall. The ceiling seemed boundless, the full moon in view as if it was an open room. Of course, Tim knew that the ceiling was either bewitched, or enchanted, or something similar, as he'd walked into the room, and in fact noticed that it did seem to have a roof.

The first day of term crept up on Tim rather quickly, but he didn't mind, mostly spending the time training and exercising in his room. Snape had a quick recovery, but otherwise kept his distance. Since his fight with Snape, Tim had been formally introduced to the rest of the Hogwarts staff. Septima Vector, Aurora Sinistra, and Minerva McGonagall had all made passes at him, while the other teachers were simply amazed at Tim's skill, despite the fact that Snape had obviously been toying with him, a mistake he'd never make again.

Seated adjacent to Snape, Tim watched as Dumbledore stood up from his seat, arms outstretched as he spoke to the students of Hogwarts, a small group of which who were standing near the High Table, as opposed to being seated at one of four tables in the Great Hall.

"Greetings, first year students. I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts." He introduced himself. "Before we begin, I have some start-of-term notices. All students are prohibited from going into the Forbidden Forest. Additionally, the third-floor corridor is out of bounds to those who do not wish to suffer a painful death." Dumbledore warned with but a calm voice. "We also have a new member of staff joining us. His name is Tim Ihansha, and he will be taking over Quirinus Quirrell's Defense Against the Dark Arts class." Dumbledore motioned for Tim to stand, though he declined, the student body having already noticed the new face among the staff, the female students especially offering him winks and lingering glances. Tim didn't feel like standing anyway. "Please find your table as soon as you are sorted into your house." Dumbledore instructed.

To Tim's confusion, the younger students' delight, and the older students' annoyance, the Sorting Hat began to sing.

"ㇸ6You can keep your bowlers black," the Sorting Hat sung. "ㇸ6Your top hats sleek and tall, for I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat, and I can cap them all!ㇸ6"

"What the _Hell_!?" Tim asked.

"ㇸ6There's nothing hidden in your head the Sorting Hat can't see, so try me on and I'll tell you where you ought to be!ㇸ6"

"This is messed up…" Tim muttered, absolutely perplexed by the idea of a singing hat.

"Granger, Hermione!" Minerva McGonagall called once the Sorting Hat had stopped singing. A young brunette girl walked out from the crowd, mumbling to herself, nervously sitting down on the chair, eliciting the eyes of the rest of the students.

The Sorting Hat somehow drew a long, hard breath. "Gryffindor!" the Sorting Hat shouted, causing several students to cheer. The brunette sighed with relief as she withdrew from the spotlight, moving to find the banquet table for Gryffindor House.

"Hey…!" Tim whispered, ushering Snape, who turned to him with a groan.

" _What_ …?" Snape asked.

"Whoa, hey. I think _that_ tone's a little uncalled for. I just wanted to know something about the whole House-Sorting thing." Tim stated.

"What is it?" Snape repeated, using the same tone as earlier.

"Has the Sorting Hat ever put a student into two houses before?"

"Don't be _stupid_." Snape dismissed, refusing to even answer Tim's question. Almost as if the very thought of having one student in two houses was unfathomably ridiculous.

"Bones _,_ Susan!" Minerva McGonagall called again. Another young girl, this one with orange hair, did as Hermione had done, before finding herself sitting nervously beneath the Sorting Hat as it mused to itself.

"Hmmm, let me see…" the Hat muttered, before coming to its decision. "I know, Hufflepuff!"

The cheer from the Hufflepuff students was quickly offset by the laughter from Slytherin students. It was practically common knowledge to the older students on how the younger ones were grouped into Houses. Those that were generally courageous were put into Gryffindor, those that were seen as confident and perhaps a little sneaky were generally put into Slytherin, and the brainy students were grouped into Ravenclaw. Hufflepuff was unfortunately where the dunces, for lack of a better term, ended up.

It seemed as though Susan knew that.

" _Hufflepuff_?!" she shouted. " _Everyone_ knows that's the _retard_ House!"

The Slytherin students roared louder as Professor McGonagall looked at the girl in shock. "Susan! Mind your language!" she warned.

"This is ridiculous…" Susan mumbled, dejectedly walking over to the Hufflepuff banquet table. "Bloody Hufflepuff…"

Professor McGonagall sighed, before calling out the name of another student. "Potter, Harry…"

A hush worked through the crowd. Staff and student alike were keeping their eyes firmly on the black-haired boy who emerged from the crowd. Harry Potter. The only person who didn't make any sort of fuss over him was Tim.

Harry sat down on the stool as the Sorting Hat was placed over his head.

"Hmm, difficult, very difficult…" the Hat murmured. "Plenty of courage I see, not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh yes, _plenty_ of talent. And a thirst… to prove yourself. But the question is… where do I put you…?"

"Not Slytherin… Not Slytherin…" Harry whispered. As Harry was about to plea again, the Sorting Hat cut him off.

"Not Slytherin, eh? You think you're qualified to make that decision? I mean, if you wanted, I _guess_ you could decide where to go, but that's not your job, is it? It's _mine_. After all, this is the one night in the entire year when I get to come out of my dusty closet, spending the rest of my time tucked away in a box, rehearsing that _bloody_ song so I don't get one lyric wrong, and you think it's okay for you to come up here and tell me how to do _my_ job, how _I_ should sort _you_!? I have half a mind to put you in Hufflepuff!"

Harry's eyes widened in fear. "Please! _Anything_ but _Hufflepuff_!" he begged.

The Sorting Hat smirked. "Ah… So if you're faced with the choice between Hufflepuff and Slytherin, you'd prefer Slytherin… Well, if you're sure… Better be… _Gryffindor_!"


	3. Draco's Cracking Assault

"Every damn room and hallway looks exactly the same!" Tim ranted as he jogged down one of the halls at Hogwarts. There was no other way to put it – Tim was lost. But how could he not be? The place was a virtual labyrinth. There were trap doors, shifting staircases, faulty tiles, not to mention that the whole castle just seemed boundless, with the only difference between some of the floors being the colors of the tiles. It was lucky that Tim was quick on his feet – anyone in his position would've surely died already.

Tim slowed to a stop, sweat forming on his forehead. It wasn't that Tim was nervous. No, not at all. He just didn't want to be late. He was the teacher after all, and it wouldn't have looked good if he had've turned up later to his class than the students, who, those he watched, all seemed to know where they were supposed to be going. The students in Tim's class probably wouldn't take the class – or him – seriously, if he arrived to his own class late.

As Tim was no longer training, he decided to change up his appearance into something more comfortable, at least for him. Tim had brought his blazing orange hair out of its pony tail, letting the hair rest gently on both sides of his face. His gi pants were gone too, instead replaced by a shabby old pair of stonewashed jeans which happened to be ripped at the knees. He also wore a nice pair of black combat boots, just because he could.

He _also_ , again, neglected wearing a shirt, not wanting to deprive any female students from gazing upon his absolutely gorgeous body.

Tim's clothing aside, he had to keep moving. Tim took a stab in the dark, looking to a random door, before running up to it, opening it, and going in.

It was a rather barren room. Two windows either side, and a portrait of an older fellow facing the door he came in from. Suddenly to Tim's surprise, the man in the portrait started speaking.

"Well I haven't seen you here before," A voice echoed throughout the room as the man in the portrait moved his lips to match the words. "You must be the new member of staff. I heard you gave Severus a run for his money the other day."

"That's true. I did." Tim spoke, his eyes on the portrait.

"It's been so long since anyone's come in here and spoken to me." The voice rambled.

"Yeah, well if the only thing in here was a portrait, _I'd_ be hard-pressed to find a reason to come in here…" Tim muttered. "Look, I'm gonna go now, got a class to teach, and talking to a painting's not really my thing."

"Ah, yes. You're teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, aren't you?"

"That's right." Tim said. "Only I can't find the bloody classroom. Everybody's giving me conflicting information. Some people are telling me it's class thirty-one on the second floor, others are saying it's on the third floor. You wouldn't happen to know where the classroom is, would you?"

"Ah, I would indeed. The classroom changes almost every year. This year it's across from the Potions classroom down in the dungeon."

"The dungeon…" Tim muttered. "And how would I get to the dungeon from here?"

"Oh, that's easy! You just head through the door opposite to mine in the Entrance Hall, follow the corridor, head into the next room, and go west from there. The door to the classroom should be cloaked in a green hue, you can't miss it."

Tim nodded, going through the directions in his head. "Right. Well, thanks…"

"Off you go then. But be careful, there are some odd creatures about." The portrait warned.

"Nothing _I_ shouldn't be able to handle…" Tim smirked, turning and walking out of the portrait room.

* * *

Tim stood at the front of the room, his back turned as he scribbled notes from a textbook, a staff copy of Quentin Trimble's 'The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection', onto the blackboard. Tim had taken the time he had before anybody showed up to reorganize the room, as he'd found it to be a little disorienting. There had been empty cages placed all around the room, and almost the entire dungeon area where the classroom was located reeked of garlic. Naturally, Tim got rid of all of that, heading across the floor to take desks and chairs from the Potions classroom.

By the time he'd fixed up the classroom, only one student, a young brunette girl, had arrived, and had found a seat at the very front of the class. Tim continued writing notes onto the blackboard in silence.

"Excuse me," the girl called.

"Yes?" Tim asked, not bothering to turn to the girl.

"You used defense instead of _defence_. I mean, um… with the spelling. You used the American spelling…"

"That so…?" Tim cringed, taking the chalk in his hand and crushing it.

"Well, we _are_ in Scotland after all. It would make sense to use local spelling."

Tim turned around, not at all enjoying being talked down to by a student. His anger though, dissipated almost immediately when he saw who it was that was sitting in front of him. Though it wasn't so much who it was, but more so who it reminded Tim of.

"Oh…" Tim muttered, clearing his throat. "To be honest, I've never done this teaching thing before, and I tend to forget sometimes what regions use what spelling. I've been to quite a few different places over the years…"

"Oh, that's right! You're that new Mu…" the girl trailed off.

" _Muggle_ …?" Tim asked.

"Y-yes…" She replied nervously.

"Have you got a problem that?" Tim asked, doing his best to keep any aggression out of his voice.

"Not at all. My parents are Muggles." The girl smiled warmly, regaining some of her composure.

"That's nice, hopefully you won't be too hard on me then…" Tim mumbled, turning back to his notes on the blackboard. "I suppose I can mark you as present on the class roll. You are…?"

"Ooh! Hermione Granger, sir."

"Okay…" Tim uttered, marking Hermione's name on the roll. "You are _here_ , and… I guess, just, um… sit quietly until class begins."

Hermione nodded, Tim turning back to the blackboard, getting a new piece of chalk as he continued to write his notes. It would only take a few more minutes before Tim could hear students walking into the class, filing into seats and chatting with each other. It was the conversation of two Gryffindor students sitting up the front near Hermione that caught Tim's attention.

"E-excuse me… do you mind if I sit here?"

"Not at all."

"Thanks. Us Gryffindor kids should stick together."

"Good idea."

"Hey, wait… You're that Potter kid aren't you? Harry Potter! Is it true you've seen You-Know-Who? Can you show me the scar?"

"'You-Know-Who'…?" Tim asked quietly to himself.

"Blimey! You're really him!"

"Y-yeah…" Harry muttered sheepishly.

"You must know _heaps_ of spells!"

"N-not really…"

"What's You-Know-Who look like?"

"I, um… I don't…" the other boy's voice trailed.

Suddenly there was a new voice mixed in with the other two, the tone of a stuck-up preppy kid.

"Oh, hello! _What_ do we have here? Red hair… a hand-me-down robe? You _must_ be a Weasley!" A blond boy smirked.

Tim turned from the board in a seething rage, dragging the boy away from Harry's desk, where he'd been standing, to the front of the class. "Have you got a problem with red hair!?" Tim asked.

"N-no, sir…" the boy meekly replied, his former bravado no longer present.

"Good… What's your name?"

"Draco Malfoy."

"Well Draco, that's your first and only warning. Sit down!" Tim ordered, Draco returning to his seat. "Next time… you don't wanna know what happens next time…" Tim breathed. "Okay! Morning everyone. My name is Legit Professor Tim Ihansha, and this is Defense Against the Dark Arts for first-year students." Tim stopped, the hand of a student, one Seamus Finnigan, rising into the air. "Yes?"

"Is that a Japanese surname?" Seamus asked.

"Yes." Tim quickly answered.

"Are you Japanese?"

"Do I _look_ Japanese?"

"No, sir."

"Well there's your answer. Now since you're first year students, we won't be getting into too much of the hardcore stuff. So-" Tim stopped, his head turning to Draco, who was whispering something to his friend. " _You_." He said sternly, the rest of the class turning to focus on Draco. "Stand up."

"What?" Draco asked.

"You heard me. _Get up_." Tim repeated. Draco's face formed an expression as if to mock Tim, before getting up out of his seat. "Right, now, attack me."

Draco started laughing. "You _can't_ be serious…"

"If you're talking in class, then you must already know some offensive magic. So come on then! Hit me with your best shot!" Tim taunted.

Draco laughed again, thinking perhaps he might be able to show off to his fellow classmates and humiliate the teacher. "Alright. If you're serious. I'll have you flat on the ground and begging for mercy before you even know it!" Draco's eyes narrowed. " _Flipendo_!" he shouted, pointing his wand at Tim.

Tim charged forward, not only taking the jinx head-on, but grabbing Draco by the throat and pinning him against the wall.

Draco struggled to breathe as the class looked on with a mixture of shock, amazement, and horror. Tim tightened his grip just a little. " _You'll_ have _me_ on the _ground_ , _will you_?!" Tim snapped.

Two of Draco's friends, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, rose from their seats to come to Draco's aid, but Tim knocked them down with a single hand between the both of them. Tim kept his eyes on Draco as his face started to change color, Tim denying Draco's body the right to breathe.

Some of the class, mostly Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students, yelled encouragement to Tim. In a moment of pity, Tim ripped his hand away, Draco dropping to the ground, coughing and spluttering. Tim turned to face the rest of the class. "Y… You filthy _Muggle_! Just _wait_ until _my_ _father_ hears about this!" Draco spat. Tim's body jerked, moving back to face Draco and kicking him in the face, breaking his nose and taking out a few of his teeth.

"Tell your father he raised a brat of a son." Tim knelt down, knocking Draco, Crabbe and Goyle unconscious. Silence hung in the air for a long while until Tim sighed, a calm expression across his face. "Right! Young Draco here just demonstrated the Flipendo Knockback Jinx, which is what we'll be learning first. Everybody, please turn to page ten in your textbooks."

"S-sir?" one of the other students, a Hufflepuff named Wayne Hopkins, asked, a hand raised in question.

"Anybody who assists any of the three boys or suggests they be taken to the Hospital Wing will have House Points taken away from their respective Houses. Just ignore them and focus on what's in front of you." Tim simply said, walking from the three boys back to the front of the class, turning to face the blackboard once more. "Okay, so…"

"With all due respect, sir, I don't really understand how you can be teaching us magic with you being a Muggle."

Tim turned from the board once more, his eyes locking onto one Ernest Macmillan. "Right. Do you wanna end up like Draco and his buddies?"

"N-no, sir!"

"Then you might want to stop calling me a Muggle. You can't use that word, only _we_ can use that word! Is that clear?"

"Y-yes, sir…"

"All of you! _Is that clear_?!" Tim shouted, this time addressing the class.

The class, excluding Draco, Crabbe and Goyle for obvious reasons, nodded. "Yes, sir."

Tim noticed Hermione giving him a warm smile. Tim smiled right back. "Alright then…"

* * *

Outside of his class with the first-years, Tim got no lip or backchat from other students. In fact, most of the other students he taught just came in, did whatever work Tim set for them with no complaints and then left. The only troublesome students he came across were two third-year students, twins Fred and George Weasley, but even then they weren't troublesome to the extent that Draco had been.

Rumors were going around that they'd hidden various items like a Nimbus Two Thousand broomstick and apparently rare Famous Witches and Wizards Cards behind various portraits all throughout Hogwarts, not that that meant anything to Tim. The issue was that they were getting people to collect Bertie Bott's Beans in return for getting the passwords for the portraits. Because of this, many of the students in Fred and George's year weren't really getting any work done, and Tim's class wasn't really an exception.

Aside from that, there were no issues at all, and Tim thought that his first day as a teacher at Hogwarts had gone pretty well. He sighed, deciding against packing things away and just having the classroom locked. As Tim was about to lock up the classroom, three students appeared by the door.

"Draco…" Tim muttered. "What are you doing here?" he asked, looking over at the boy, not giving any attention to his cronies.

Draco's face was full of malice and scorn, entering the classroom with heavy feet. "You know why I'm here! You humiliated me! Well guess what: This time, the _students_ are going to teach _you_ a lesson, Muggle!" Draco shouted. "You're going to learn about Wizard Crackers!"

"'Wizard Crackers'?" Tim asked.

"That's right! You're not leaving this classroom until I have my revenge! Crabbe! Goyle! Let's go!" Draco ordered. Crabbe and Goyle both nodded, moving in from the door and over to both ends of the classroom.

"That so?" Tim mulled. The three boys each dropped the bags on their backs to the floor beside them, opening them up and each retrieving a Christmas cracker from them before throwing them at Tim. Tim caught the cracker that Draco threw, the other two landing to either side of him. "Okay…? And this-" He was cut off as the other two crackers started flashing and then exploded, blinding him for half a second.

Had Tim been any other Muggle, he would've been burnt, possibly bruised or stung, depending on what exactly was inside the crackers, but Tim wasn't one to let a simple Christmas cracker hurt him, even if it may have contained some kind of concentrated explosion.

"That's your first and only warning, boys. Let's not do this again." Tim sighed. All three boys just reached down into their bags to retrieve more Wizard Crackers. "Fine…" Tim muttered, assuming a shallow-standing squat. "You were warned…!"

Tim charged, knocking all three boys to the ground. Then, Tim quickly went around, retrieving all the Wizard Crackers he could carry, ripping them open and pouring out whatever contents hadn't exploded over the three boys' bodies. Sparks of fire rained down on the Slytherin trio, causing them to thrash about in pain. Finally, Tim stomped down on Draco's crotch with his combat boots, ruining any chance Draco had of raising a family in the future.

Draco let out a bloodcurdling scream, his prepubescent voice almost music to Tim's ears. Satisfied, Tim dragged Crabbe and Goyle back over to Draco and then leaned down to the boys.

"I'm taking fifteen House Points from Slytherin. Be grateful that's all I'm taking from you, you spoiled brats." Tim snickered, before spitting on Goyle.


	4. Everybody Hates Raymond

"Yo! Dumblebro!" Tim called, peering halfway into Dumbledore's office.

"Ah! Tim! Good of you to drop by. How did your first day of teaching treat you? The students weren't too difficult, I hope." He smiled.

"Actually, it went pretty well, but I took fifteen House Points away from Slytherin 'cause Draco and his buddies were bein' racist little cretins. Who do I talk to about making sure those points get subtracted?"

"Just come and tell me what points you wish to subtract from what House, and I'll take care of it. I trust you."

The door swung open again, and Snape barged on in. "Albus! We need to talk about the Potter boy."

"This is the second time you've barged in like this, Professor Snape. I'm hoping this doesn't become a regular occurrence." Dumbledore sighed.

"Harry Potter is simply not up to the standard that other first-year Hogwarts students should be at. He had great difficulty identifying the ingredients needed for a Wiggenweld Potion, and when I asked him to go and retrieve the jar of live fireflies from the adjoining room, a simple task which should have only taken him thirty seconds at the most, it took him over ten minutes to return. Class had finished by the time he came back, and so we weren't able to move onto the next potion. All of the students in the class are now behind schedule because of his incompetence."

"Just give him some time, Severus." Dumbledore sighed.

"Actually, I agree with Snape." Tim spoke up, causing Snape to look over at Tim in surprise. "Shocking, I know. But yesterday, I was trying to teach the first-years the Flipendo Knockback Jinx, and it took Harry the whole freakin' class to learn it. Hermione Granger got it down in five minutes."

"Yes, well it is hard learning _magic_ from a _Muggle_ …" Snape muttered.

"Okay! If I hear you say that word anymore, I'm gonna rip your head right off your body and make you eat my shi-"

"Tim! That's enough!" Dumbledore urged. Tim simply raised his hand, as if showing Dumbledore his willingness to smack him again, and Dumbledore quietened down.

"Why do we even _need_ Harry Potter anyway?" Tim asked. "I think it's plainly obvious that _I'm_ the best choice to take Voldemort down. If Harry can't even do a bloody Knockback Jinx, what use is he to us?"

"In spite of what you might think," Dumbledore began. "Harry Potter is needed. He is still an integral part of taking down Voldemort."

"How so? He's a _child_. He'll only get himself killed against a wizard like Voldemort." Tim sighed. Snape smirked, Tim turning to him. "What's so funny?"

"Well, he's 'The Boy Who Lived'. He's already gone up against Voldemort once and survived, even though he may not realize it. When compared to a Muggle like you, even _I_ can see that Potter has potential, even if he may be wasting it."

"'The Boy Who Lived'?" Tim asked. "Every boy lives. And then when they die, they've still lived. When they've become a man, they've still lived. And _I_ have lived to see things that your screwed up mind couldn't even _begin_ to comprehend, so you best not talk to me about this Harry kid being 'instrumental' to some stupid plot. If anyone's gonna kill Voldemort, it's _me_." Tim said, pointing to himself with his right thumb. " _End of story_."

* * *

To say that Tim had been put into a foul mood by his visit to Snape and Dumbledore would have been an understatement. Tim was absolutely livid. The very idea of a child being able to combat one of the greatest dark wizards of all time was preposterous, regardless of what Dumbledore may have said or might have been thinking.

To try and calm himself down, Tim had decided to take a walk around the castle grounds. Thankfully, he didn't have a class to teach, so he was pretty much free to do whatever he pleased with himself.

It was all quite peaceful, the outside of the castle. Not at all what Tim had thought it would be. Truth be told, he didn't really pay any attention when he was arriving at Hogwarts, but now, he took the time to just wander around the atrium and the courtyard, listening to the tittering of some magical firefly-esk creatures as he walked.

His peace, his silence, was soon interrupted by the sound of a young student, who was bent over a well, and looked to be on the verge of tears.

For a brief moment, Tim took pity on the boy, and decided to go over and see what the matter was. "Hey!" Tim called. "Are you alright?"

The young boy, a Ravenclaw by the name of Raymond Guntin, looked relieved that a teacher had arrived. "Oh, sir! My poor kitten has fallen down the well! I can't reach her!" he shouted.

"Have you thought about using a _spell_?" Tim deadpanned, his pity already worn thin.

"Please, sir. It's very dark down there! Will you help me?"

Tim grunted, pushing Raymond onto the ground before prying off the bars to the well. "Seriously, kid. You're a mess." Tim sighed. After the bars came off, Tim jumped down into the well, holding back his power so as not to cause any damage to the school. Tim was unable to find a kitten just by looking around, and so Tim decided the best course of action would be to use his fists.

There were barrels, chests and crates down in the labyrinthine sewer-esk place where Tim was, swinging his arms and legs around in an incredibly precise manner to break them, finding nothing but spiders, rats, and Bertie Bott's Beans. Tim stopped, and as he sighed, he heard the meowing of a cat, and so Tim raced off in the direction in which the sound had come from.

In less than a minute, Tim had found a ginger cat sprawled out on the floor and looking a little malnourished. Tim frowned, retrieving the kitten and heading back the way he came. With a powerful jump, Tim was able to leave the well the same way that he'd entered.

"Thank you, sir!" Raymond cried, the ginger cat jumping from Tim's arms into the boy's.

"Don't thank me, just learn from this experience. Seriously, I thought Ravenclaw was for smart students. You shouldn't have let that fur-ball out of your sight. You're lucky it's not dead. In fact, I'm taking five points from Ravenclaw for mistreatment towards Mister Fluffykins here."

"That's not her name-"

"Yes it is!" Tim snapped. "It's _his_ name now! Good day to you!"

"But-"

Tim turned suddenly, reaching forward as he dug two fingers into Raymond's right eye, the child howling and reeling back in pain.

"I'll be coming back for the other one if you don't clean up your act." Tim warned.

Raymond dropped to his knees, sobbing quietly to himself as blood dripped from his eye-socket.

Tim smiled, turning back to the well. There was something down there. He could just feel it. It wasn't Voldemort, but it _was_ something worthy of his time and attention. Cracking his knuckles, Tim jumped back down into the well, once again keeping his power in check, though he still landed with a powerful thud.

There was a door to Tim's right, illuminated by two torches that hung on the wall above. Instinctively, Tim walked forward, opening the door, and strolling into the room with unabashed purpose.

It was a dimly lit room, wide, empty, and eerie, with two locked doors either side. Platforms littered the ground, some of which were positioned high in the air by magic, with a small staircase proceeding to an arbitrary lever. Curiously, Tim moved over to the lever, pulling it forward and stepping back, one of the platforms rising from the ground and high into the air.

At the same time, a lock from one of the doors fell to the ground, before disappearing in a flash of white dust.

Tim walked over to the door, hearing a loud snore coming from inside. Without even caring what exactly it was that was on the other side of the door, Tim opened it, walking in to find that the room was actually a stone bedroom belonging to a troll, the troll sleeping uncomfortably with its head almost tucked between its legs.

" _Hey_!" Tim shouted. "Get up!" The troll awoke almost immediately, grabbing its club that was conveniently placed beside the bed. "I haven't had a worthy opponent in ages, so don't disappoint me!" Tim barked.

The troll stood several feet higher than Tim, adorned in brown leather, its wooden club already looking in bad shape, dried blood along both ends. Upon closer inspection, Tim could tell it was a mountain troll, but what one was doing locked away in Hogwarts was anybody's guess. It didn't matter to Tim though. He just wanted to take it down.

The troll charged, taking a swing at Tim's head, but Tim dodged effortlessly, rolling under the troll's feet. The club made contact with the ground, causing the entire room to shake. With a quick and powerful sweep of the leg, Tim knocked the troll right off its feet and onto its back.

Tim jumped onto the troll's ample stomach, creating little ripples in the skin as he landed. Turning his body and rearing his right arm back, Tim roared like a thundering behemoth, bringing his hand down, fingers forward, and cutting into the troll's skin like a knife. The troll grunted in pain just a little before Tim ripped his hand out, the troll's body twitching as the beast was silenced, his dull eyes closing slowly. Tim sighed, his right hand covered in blood and stomach fluid. "Guess I overdid it a little…" Tim muttered, getting off of the troll's body. "Oh well… Looks like everything in this room is mine…"

Looking around the room, there wasn't much that Tim could really use. There were some chocolate frogs and Bertie Bott's Beans on the wooden table, and a rather arbitrary haystack, along with an empty cage. Though none of it was really very useful, Tim decided just to take what he could anyway.

Once he'd gotten together everything he could carry, Tim left the room. The question of why a mountain troll would be at Hogwarts popped into Tim's head again, and he decided the best course of action would be to go and see Dumbledore.

* * *

Tim didn't even bother knocking as he entered Dumbledore's office for the second time that day. His eyes locked onto the elderly wizard, his gaze like ice as Tim forced him to his feet with nothing but his stare.

"Tim…"

"You mind telling me why I found a freaking mountain troll hiding out in a room beneath a well?"

"Excuse me?"

" _Why_ was a _troll_ living underneath Hogwarts?!" Tim barked. "Don't make me hit you, old man! What's going on?!"

Dumbledore's face cracked a sudden smile. "You know what it was…? One of our security measures. I'd forgotten that we now have you guarding the stone. I should have relinquished the troll of its duty, but I didn't. That was my mistake. I shall attend to this matter personally. Additionally, I shall inform students that the corridor on the third floor is no longer out of bounds."

"I'm not stupid." Tim began. "If that troll was only there to guard the stone, you would've done something about it weeks ago, when you gave me the stone. No. The troll was down there for another reason. What was it?"

"What do you mean 'was'?" Dumbledore asked.

Tim leaned closer. "I killed it…" Tim whispered. "I looted the room too. You're lucky I held back. This whole place would be rubble if it wasn't for me."

"Tim." Dumbledore suddenly said. "You know as well as I do that not all secrets are rewarding, so trust me when I tell you that if I don't let you know certain things, then that means they're none of your concern. I trust that you will take care of Voldemort when the need arises, and that you will be able to handle teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, but everything else, I want you to trust that I know what's best."

Tim stood there for a long while, his head looking up towards the ceiling. "Why'd you give me the stone then?"

"Because I trust you. More than you know, and more than most of the staff here. I just need you to trust me as well. Like you used to…"

"…I can do that."

"Also," Dumbledore added. "I trust that you will… guide Harry Potter if the need should arise. I fear there may be a time… soon, when he will need to fight, though my fear is the same as yours, he won't be ready. But… If he had a stern hand, such as yours, I can guarantee that he would be an absolutely invaluable asset in defeating Lord Voldemort."

"We've been over this…!" Tim sighed. "…but if it'll make you shut up, then I guess I could think about it."

"Fantastic, Tim!" Dumbledore shouted, shaking Tim's hand.

Tim brought both of his hands back, lightly tapping on his thighs. "Okay, well… I guess… we're done then…"

Dumbledore nodded. "…If you don't have anything else you need to discuss with me."

"Actually, there is…" Tim mumbled. "Can you take away five House Points from Ravenclaw? I had to rescue a cat for Raymond. And he thinks that everybody loves him…"

"Not a problem."


	5. Quidditch: A Muggle's Perspective

The early morning snow began to melt as the sun rose, cloaking Hogwarts in a warm glow. Much of the school year had gone on without anything really eventful happening, and in fact all Tim had really done was teach classes, bash in the skulls of delinquent kids, and train. That is until the end of the Quidditch season had arrived. For Hogwarts, it would be a match that certainly no one would miss nor forget, though Tim wasn't so thrilled.

See, generally with Quidditch, classes would be canceled, and anybody who wanted to attend, student or teacher, could if they chose to. The Slytherin-Gryffindor match was however a _mandatory_ event that _all_ students and staff were required to attend, mainly because of the fact that both Houses were within reach of getting the House Cup. So rather than spend time in his room training and exercising as he normally would, Tim got up early and headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

In spite of the weather, Tim still refused to wear a shirt. Actually, Tim refused to wear pants as well, appearing in the Great Hall wearing only his boxers, which earned him quite a number of lingering looks from female staff and students.

Tim smiled to many of the students as he made his way to his seat, the silver plate in front of him quickly filling with food. "Morning everybody." Tim smiled, wiping the sleep out of his eyes.

"Good morning, Tim!" McGonagall all-but moaned, probably getting wet at the sight of Tim's incredible body.

"Tim, with all due respect, I really don't think it's appropriate for you to be seated in the Great Hall like this." Dumbledore said, noticing that almost all of the female students, as well as some of the male ones, had their eyes locked on various parts of Tim's body. Mostly his crotch.

"Well I was always taught never to wear a hat at the dinner table, but I guess that's not something that you guys learned. Considering almost everybody here," Tim said, moving his finger around the room as he pointed to various individuals, both staff and student. "Is wearing a hat. Now if you excuse me, I need to get some protein in me…" A white owl flew across the ceiling, carrying with it a broomstick poorly wrapped in brown paper. Once the owl had reached Harry's table, it dropped the broomstick in front of him, and then continued on flying. Tim's eyes followed the owl until it was out of sight, weary that it could've crapped on any of their food during its flight. "Damn animals…" Tim muttered.

* * *

"Welcome to Quidditch! I'm your commentator, Lee Jordan! For those attending for the first time, I'll briefly explain the basic rules of the game. The Quidditch Pitch has three goals at each end. The Chasers throw the Quaffle and try to put it through the hoops to score. But the Chasers have to be careful! There are charmed balls, called Bludgers, that can knock them off their broomsticks if they're not too careful! Each team has two Beaters to try and keep the Bludgers away."

Tim sighed, seated in the stands next to Dumbledore, overlooking the huge Quidditch field. "Was he speaking English then? None of that made any sense to me."

"Young Lee was simply explaining the roles that members of the Quidditch team undertake, as well as how to score points." Dumbledore told him.

"Right now… your voice is so boring… I wanna punch you…" Tim groaned.

Dumbledore sighed. "Just watch, Tim. I'm sure you'll pick up what's going on by watching."

Tim grumbled, sitting back in his seat. He was squeezed in between Hagrid and Dumbledore, who, along with the rest of the Hogwarts staff, as well as the students, were seated in Quidditch stands. Down on the field, Gryffindor and Slytherin entered from opposite sides, flying out onto the field.

The Quidditch field was quite large. So large that Tim could barely see a thing from where he was sitting, and Tim had perfect vision. It wasn't really that he wanted to watch, it was that he was _forced_ to watch, but then _couldn't_ because he was so far back.

Hagrid let out a lengthy sigh. He'd been doing that for the whole morning. Just sighing lengthily for almost no reason, and it was really starting to get on Tim's nerves. He didn't want to be seated next to Hagrid the whole time, and have to put up with him being in such a bad mood.

Tim himself sighed. "What's wrong, Hagrid?" he asked, mostly out of pity.

"Well, it's just… Dumbledore told me abou' how he gave you the… you know… and so, there was no point in keepin' our security the way it was, and… Well there was no other place he could stay with his size and not 'urt others… so Fluffy's gone…"

" _Fluffy_?" Tim snorted.

"He was a good boy. Got 'im from a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year. But he's gone to Azkaban now."

"So he's dead?"

" _What_?! No!"

"Oh. I thought 'Azkaban' was a wizard euphemism for dead…"

"You don't know abou' Azkaban?"

"No, I don't, _obviously_. Just _tell_ _me_!" Tim barked.

"Azkaban is a prison in the North Sea, which holds wizards and witches convicted of serious crimes. Most that get sentenced there go mad within a month. Anyway, I sent Fluffy o'er there to help with security. I'm just really missin' him…"

"Yeah… I've lost interest in this conversation. I'd rather watch a tedious and overcomplicated death sport."

"Ya know, you'd be a heck of a lot more likeable if you even jus' _pretended_ to be nice!" Hagrid snapped.

"I'll be nice to people when they earn my respect. You brought me to Dumblebro, yes, but aside from that, you've done nothing. If you show me why I should respect you, I might, and _then_ I'll be nice to you."

Hagrid snorted. "You think I believe that? You've been treating Dumbledore like dirt ever since you got here!" Hagrid leaned over. "Hey, Dumbledore. Why do you put up with this guy?"

Tim chuckled to himself as Dumbledore simply replied. "I don't. I value his friendship, his assistance, and his commitment to our cause. He's a good person."

Tim and the rest of the staff seated in the stand went back to listening to Lee's commentary.

"As many of you will know, this will be Hogwarts' _final_ Quidditch game of the season! _Slytherin_ versus _Gryffindor_! And as always, the players take their position as Madam Hooch steps onto the field!"

"What's the point of even watching this if Lee Jordan has to tell us what's going on?" Tim asked. Hagrid shushed him, causing Tim to snap back. "Shut up, Hagrid."

Down on the field, Rolanda Hooch stepped out into the opening below the competitors, holding a box in her hands. She placed it down onto the grass, and then looked up to both teams. "I want this to be a nice, clean game." She said, releasing the Bludgers and Snitch from the box. She then took the Quaffle into her hands before throwing it into the air.

The field turned to chaos, both teams vying for the Quaffle as players collided with each other. Lee Jordan continued to shout commentary into the microphone at his stand, but even with that, Tim found it difficult to discern what was going on. All he knew was that ten minutes in, Gryffindor had scored twice, and Slytherin once.

Tim also noticed that Harry Potter was just sitting above the action on his broomstick, not really doing anything.

"Shouldn't Harry be doing something?" Tim asked.

"Well he's the Seeker. It's their job to catch the Snitch. The Seeker that does that earns their team one hundred and fifty points." Hagrid explained.

"Okay. So why isn't he moving around?"

"Well it's really up to Harry how he plays his role of Seeker, as there are many diff'rent strategies he can use. Some prefer to stay out of the action, like what Harry's doin', to get a better view of the field. Others prefer to just get in and see if they can find the Snitch for themselves. See, the Snitch releases a small trail of gold dust that you can't see from far away, so in some cases it can be better to go after the Snitch-"

"Why can't they just use magic to find the Snitch?"

"Because that's not the way the game is played."

"Well what's the point of playing Quidditch if you can't use magic? It's a wizard game, so why not allow the use of magic?"

"Will both of you _shut_ _up_!" Snape called from his seat. "You two have been bickering like an old married couple. So if you're not going to keep quiet-"

"I don't remember asking to hear your voice." Tim cut Snape off. "If I want to hear your voice, I'll talk to you, or ask you a question. Otherwise, stay out of my business. This is between me and the giant!"

"Hey!" Hagrid shouted.

"Oh, see. Not all fun and games when someone's racist to you, is it?"

"I ain't never called ye a Muggle!" Hagrid said angrily.

"Right. I'm sorry." Tim apologized. "That was more directed at Snape than you. I apologize."

"Ah, no worries then…" Hagrid uttered, the two of them turning back to watch the Quidditch game. And it was a good thing they did.

It happened so quickly that nobody was prepared for it. One moment, Harry was sitting high in the sky on his broom, the next, a Bludger flew right at him, striking him in the chest, causing Harry to topple back, clinging to his broom as he tried desperately to pull himself back up.

"Oh no!" Hagrid shouted. "If Harry falls from a height like that, there's a good chance he won't make it!"

"Someone help him!" Professor McGonagall screamed.

Tim got up out of his seat. "I got this…" Tim jumped down from his seat, the stand, and then straight down onto the Quidditch field, hitting the ground hard as a crater formed out from his feet due to the impact. When Tim's eyes found Harry's, he brought both of his arms up, outstretched, before smacking them together and bringing them back by his left side. Slowly, a ball of energy began to form between his hands. Staff or student. Witch or wizard. None of them had seen anything like what Tim was doing. " _Ka_ … _me_ … _ha_ … _me_ …" The ball slowly grew in size as Tim spoke, until finally, it was time. " _Ha_ …!" Tim yelled, releasing the ball of energy in a beam of bright blue light, aimed squarely at the ground.

The force of the beam launched Tim through the air and right towards Harry. Bringing both arms out by his sides, Tim caught Harry just as the latter fell from the sky. On the way down, Tim also caught the Snitch. It wasn't really for any particular reason, it was just because he could.

Tim hit the ground with Harry still in his arms, forming another huge crater where they landed. The Quidditch arena went quiet, absolutely everybody looking down at Harry and Tim in silence.

"U-unbelievable!" Lee cried. "He caught the Snitch! Tim has caught the Snitch! Gryffindor wins!"

The crowd in the stands was divided. Half of the crowd (all of Gryffindor and most of Ravenclaw) cheered for the victory, while the rest of the crowd (mainly Slytherin, as well as some Hufflepuff students) were crying out in disapproval. Snape rose to his feet in anger amongst the uproar, his voice projected to the entirety of Hogwarts through magic. " _Preposterous_!" he shouted. "That doesn't make any sense! Tim isn't a student, nor does he even possess any magical abilities! How can Tim possibly win for Gryffindor?"

There were no words that needed to be said to the Potions Professor. Instead, Tim replied with a simple and yet powerful stare, directed solely into Snape's eyes, and straight into his soul, sending shivers down his spine and shattering his equilibrium. Defeated, Snape slowly sat back into his seat, resigning himself to the loss of Slytherin.

The crowd once again erupted into a roar of applause. As the crowd cheered, Harry Potter, who was still cradled in Tim's powerful, muscular arms, looked up into the teacher's amber-flame eyes, which seemed to burn with passion and a love of life. "Thank you for saving me, sir…" Harry muttered, understandably a bit shaken from his near-death experience.

"Just make sure it doesn't happen again." Tim told the young wizard, before looking up towards the sky. "Anyway, that's enough games for now. We have lots of work to do…"


	6. Wood and Sticky White Stuff

Tim stared aimlessly out the window of his room, his perfect body turned away from Harry as he recalled his prior conversations with Dumbledore. Harry looked at Tim, confused and unsure as to why he'd been brought into his room. "There's something that you need to know…" Tim said finally, turning to Harry. "Voldemort is returning…"

"What?" Harry asked.

"The one the other students call 'You-Know-Who'. He is returning…" Tim took a breath. "Didn't you find it at all strange that I was employed here as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, despite me not knowing how to perform magic myself?"

"Sort of… but I didn't want to say anything…" Harry mumbled.

"Well it's because Dumblebro asked for my assistance. See… I fought Voldemort once before… that's how I got this scar." Tim said, running his fingers along his chest, Harry unable to take his eyes off the scar, which was plain for him to see, a bigger and better version of his own. "I know that you faced Voldemort once before as well, but apparently he's gotten stronger. And although you are young, and I've advised Dumblebro strongly against having you fight him, he seems to think that you are invaluable."

"O… kay…"

"That's why I brought you here, away from everyone else so that we could talk about this properly. So tell me, Harry, at your current level, what spells can you perform?" Tim asked.

"Um…" Harry muttered. "Well, I mean… I haven't really used any, outside of class, sir."

"You're _kidding_ …"

"No, sir. We were told at the beginning of the year to not use magic unless instructed by a teacher or in a life-threatening situation."

"Okay, well what spells have you used in class, Harry? Spells that you _know_ you can execute one hundred percent of the time without fail."

"Um… well there's Flipendo, Wingardium Leviosa, Incendio, Verdimillious, and Avifors." Harry listed. Tim waited for Harry to continue, but he didn't.

"That's it…?" Tim asked. "You've been at Hogwarts for almost a year, and you can only perform five spells, all of which you haven't done once without teacher instruction."

"S-sir?"

Tim sighed, turning away from Harry and once again facing the window. "Listen… there's no time to get you trained and ready this year, seeing as it's almost over. What I want you to do is stay out of trouble for the remainder of the year. Don't go wandering around at night, don't give that Malfoy kid any opportunity to antagonize you."

"I'm not quite sure I understand…"

"Come on, Harry. How difficult is it for you to understand? Just don't go getting yourself into trouble, okay? It's very simple."

"Yes, sir…" Harry mumbled.

* * *

Unfortunately, Harry did not listen to Tim's wise words, as Tim found out.

One night, under Dumbledore's instruction, Tim was called to Hagrid's Hut. Usually, he wouldn't have gone regardless if Dumbledore had asked or not, but for some particular reason, he did.

When Tim arrived on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, Hagrid stood outside his door, two torches in hand. "Hey, Hagrid. What's up?"

"Glad ya came, Tim. I thought maybe you wouldn't."

"Well I wasn't, but I figured that there had to be a reason why Dumblebro asked I come out here."

"There is. I need yer help with something. In a little while, we're gonna have Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco comin' 'round for their punishment."

"What punishment? What are you talking about?" Tim asked.

Hagrid sighed. "The four of 'em were caught walking around the school grounds after curfew. So Professor McGonagall is having them sent here and we're gonna go into the Forbidden Forest and take care of a few things. The forest is dangerous as many foul creatures call it home, and Dumbledore suggested that you come along as well, that you'd be able to handle anything in the forest with ease."

"That I would…" Tim mumbled. "So when are they getting here?"

"They should've been 'ere by now."

"So, what? We need to wait then?" Tim asked.

"It's all we can do…"

Tim sighed, Hagrid momentarily heading inside his hut to get Fang, his pet boarhound, and bring him outside, along with a lantern. Hagrid reappeared outside, clutching the lead of his dog in one hand, and the light in the other. For a long time after that, Tim and Hagrid stood in silence, until finally, Tim noticed five figures make their way through the mist of the night.

"About freaking time…!" Tim grumbled, though his anger was more directed towards caretaker Argus Filch, who had been leading them, than the children.

"Evenin', kids. Sorry ta be draggin' ya out here…" Hagrid apologized.

"You shouldn't be too friendly to them, Hagrid," Filch said coldly. "They're here to be punished, after all."

"That's why yer late, is it?" Hagrid asked, a stern expression across his face. "Been lecturin' them, 'ave ye? Why don't you let me take it from here, eh?"

Filch snorted. "Fine. I'll be back just before dawn..." he snickered, and then added, for no other reason than to instill fear into the children. "...For what's left of them." Filch then turned and headed back towards Hogwarts castle, his form fading away into the darkness.

"A'right, kids… and Tim…" Hagrid began. "You're all probably wonderin' what it is we're gonna be doin'. Well tonight, we're gonna be headin' into the forest to look for a wounded Unicorn…"

Tim snapped his head to Hagrid. "Are you serious? Unicorns don't exist! They're like gypsies and narwhals."

"All three of those things are real, Tim. And in the heart of the Forbidden Forest lies a wounded Unicorn that needs our help!" Hagrid shouted.

"N-no way!" Draco spoke up. "I am _not_ going in _there_!"

"Ye will if ye want to stay at Hogwarts." Hagrid replied back.

Draco mumbled "I'll be telling my father about this for sure…" but otherwise put up no resistance.

"Right! Ev'ryone!" Hagrid shouted. "Let's split up and search for the Unicorn. Ron, Hermione. You come with me. Harry, Draco. You go with Tim."

"Okay…" Ron's voice wavered, sounding as if he was close to tears, as Hermione shot a quick glance at Tim.

"Fine, but then I get Fang." Draco smiled.

"'Fraid not, Draco. Fang always comes with me. If he were to get worked up, you wouldn't know how to calm 'im down."

"Why would you need that mutt when you've got me?" Tim asked.

"Hey! Watch it!" Hagrid called.

"That's _why_ I need Fang!" Draco shouted. "To protect me from _you_!"

Tim almost burst out into laughter, trying his best to maintain his composure. "Trust me, kid. Fang wouldn't be able to protect you from me. And if I wanted you dead, you'd already _be_ dead. In fact, you should be kissing the ground I walk on for letting you live this long…" Tim smiled, pleased that Draco seemed almost a different person, at least when in regards to Tim, which was no doubt due to their prior confrontations. "Luckily for you, I'm doing this as a favor to Dumblebro, so for as long as you're in the forest with me, I'll protect you."

"Let's get back on track." Hagrid shook his head. "The blood of a Unicorn is silver, so the best way to find a wounded one would be to follow the trail of its blood. It should show up well in this moonlight. Follow the silver blood to find the Unicorn. And stick together!" Hagrid turned to Ron and Hermione. "Alright, you two! Follow me!"

* * *

"Wait 'til my father hears about this. This is _servant_ stuff. This is _absolutely_ unacceptable!" Draco whined. He'd been rattling on ever since they'd split up, and while Harry was rather annoyed by Draco's complaining, Tim had been almost driven to madness by it. "I mean, I can see _why_ he'd need us!" Draco continued. " _I_ doubt Hagrid could find the _boots_ on his _feet_ without assistance!"

"Listen, Draco. If you don't shut up, I'll leave you here." Tim snapped, turning to the blond.

"If I didn't know better, Draco, I'd say you were scared." Harry added.

"I'm not scared!" Draco insisted, although the howling of a wolf in the distance caused Draco to hug one of Tim's arms and hide behind him.

"Listen, if you're not gonna be up the front, _I'll_ take the torch." Tim sighed, snatching it from Draco. "But at the very least, the two of you should have your wands ready."

Draco nodded, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his wand, his grip unsteady. Harry did the same, though he tightened his grip on his wand, making sure not to lose it.

The three of them came to a tall tree in the forest, silver blood on the ground near the trunk of the tree. "Tim, is that…?" Harry trailed off.

"Yep. Looks like we're on the right track…" Tim muttered. "Let's keep moving…" Tim ushered to the boys.

The three of them made it out of that particular part of the woods and into a clearing, where another particularly tall tree stood out from amongst the forest, overlooking a chasm, or break, in the ground. Tim took a running start and was easily able to clear the distance, landing on the other side of the forest with a thud.

Across the chasm, Draco raised his wand into the air, a blue light forming at the tip. " _Flipendo_!" he shouted, the Knockback Jinx striking the base of the trunk, causing the tree to fall neatly over the chasm and close the gap, almost acting like a bridge for the two young boys to cross.

Draco looked on smugly at Harry, the two of them walking along the tree trunk one after the other. Once the two boys had caught up with Tim, they continued onward, passing another tree with Unicorn blood on it.

Another clearing, though this one seemed almost as if it was guarded. A blue-shelled creature, which looked like a tortoise, but Tim knew it probably wasn't, lapped slowly around the area before stopping in the middle. Tim, Harry, and Draco all watched in amazement as the blue-shelled creature shot fire out from the back of its shell, the fireball striking the ground with reverence.

"What is _that_?!" Draco asked.

"I dunno. Some fire-crapping tortoise?" Tim shrugged, walking over to it. "I'll deal with this…" Tim suddenly grabbed the creature by its hind legs and flipped it over onto its back, and then with a powerful blow and devastating force, Tim obliterated it with nothing but a single punch. Harry and Draco looked on, absolutely awestruck at the sheer power that Tim possessed. "We should keep moving. Lots of weird creatures running about, and there's obviously something in these woods that shouldn't be." Tim then turned to the boys. "Listen, if we meet anything in these woods that are dangerous, and I tell you to run, run. Don't try and be a hero."

The two boys nodded, and Tim smiled, the three of them moving forward once again.

The mist covering the ground had become even thicker, and the air just a little bit colder. Tim's nipples hardened. "There's something here… I can sense it…" Tim muttered. And sure enough, Tim was right.

Just up ahead, the body of a Unicorn laid collapsed by a tree trunk, a hooded figure standing out amongst the mist, crouching as he continued to shovel mouthfuls of silver blood which flowed from the Unicorn's body into his mouth.

Harry started grunting and groaning, holding his head in pain, while Draco just screamed in fear at the top of his lungs, turning and running away in the opposite direction. The figure looked up, getting to his feet rather quickly. " _You_ …" the figured called, his voice hoarse and demonic. " _Harry Potter_ … _I_ … _knew_ … _you'd c-come_ …"

Harry's heartrate increased, a lump in his throat as Tim turned to him. " _Run_!" Tim shouted. And run he did.

" _Stop_!" the voice called. But Harry didn't stop. He kept running. The figure attempted to run after Harry, but Tim intercepted, tacking the figure to the ground.

"Your fight is with _me_!" Tim shouted, ripping the figure's hood off. "No way… it's you…" Tim whispered, his voice suddenly lost to him. "The pedestrian…"

Quirinus Quirrell looked up at Tim, his eyes dead and wide, blood smeared on his lips. " _You_!" his voice erupted into a roar, ripping himself away from Tim's grip. " _I'll g… get you_!"

"Your voice…" Tim muttered. It was so familiar to him. There was only one who sounded so demonic and yet eerily chilling and soothing all at once. Tim narrowed his eyes. "Voldemort…"

Quirrell hissed, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as Voldemort's voice continued to speak for him. " _This time_ … _You die_ …!" A wand materialized in Quirrell's hand, drawing it back. " _Avada Ked-d-d_ … _Avad-d_ …" Quirrell growled, Tim looking at him curiously. Voldemort let loose a demonic yell in frustration, Quirrell's face contorting.

"What's wrong?" Tim asked.

" _It's_ … _hard to sound int-ti-ti-tiimidating with a f-fuc_ … _cking stutter_!" Voldemort snapped. " _But more than that_ , _I can't even use the d-d-damn K-k-killing C-curse on you_!"

"Have you tried airy speech?" Tim suggested.

" _What_?"

"You know. Breathing a little at the start of a word so the sound's not hard and you can get through a block. If you're trying to use the Killing Curse and the 'D' in 'Avada' is giving you trouble, it's best to soften it."

" _The Hell are you t-talking about_?!"

"Okay, well how about beat-talking? You know, where you just talk in time with a beat? Each syllable-"

" _Enough! I'm n_ … _not going to t-take speech therapy advice from you_!"

"Whatever, dude. I'm just tryin' to make you more intimidating, 'cause it's really hard to take you seriously with a stutter. Honestly Voldemort, give it up. If you can't even talk properly, how can you expect to cast spells and beat me?"

" _You're right_ …" Voldemort sighed, Quirrell's mouth moving to match his words. " _It's obvious I'm no match for you, so I'll just leave_ …"

Tim smirked. "Well I want to beat you when you're at your strongest, so I'll let you go. But you know where to find me when I'm ready. And you'd better be at the top of your game next time. None of this stuttering bull…"

Voldemort nodded, Quirrell's form shaking violently as he turned away from Tim, taking a few steps as if to leave, before turning back to Tim, wand poised. " _Vitis Incarcerous_!" He shouted, vines ripping up through the ground and wrapping around Tim's limbs.

"What in the…?" Tim asked, struggling against the vines, but even _he_ wasn't able to break free.

Voldemort laughed, Quirrell's body jerking. " _You're a lot d-dumber than I remember_! _Did you honestly think I'd go and leave q-q-q-quietly_? _Not before you're dead_!"

"So what? You're gonna kill me with vines?" Tim deadpanned.

Voldemort cocked Quirrell's head sideways, tittering evilly. " _Incendio_!" He cried, sparks flying from his wand and onto the ground beneath Tim's feet. The sparks on the ground quickly turned into a roaring fire, which slowly crept up the vines, as well as spreading to a great number of trees and shrubbery in the forest and setting them alight. " _And to think that I was actually afraid of you_ … _but you're no match for me_ …" Quirrell's body turned away from Tim. " _Now if you'll excuse me_ , _I have to go and k-kill Harry Potter_ …"

Tim's eyes went wide as Quirrell walked through the fire, leaving Tim struggling to break free from the vines, fire crackling and dancing along the vines to reach him. Tim could hear the sound of trees behind him ablaze with fire crash to the ground.

Tim tensed his body, closing his eyes as his form became consumed by the flames.


	7. The Inconvenience of Underage Driving

"This butterbeer tastes like crap…" Tim muttered, seated in an old dinky chair at the Three Broomsticks Inn. "It's like cream soda mixed with rat piss and honey…"

The bartender, who'd served Tim his drink, snorted, but otherwise stayed silent.

Tim sighed, leaning back in his seat, as he thought back to everything that had gone on the previous year – his first year as a teacher at Hogwarts.

Voldemort had left Tim to die in the Forbidden Forest, but unbeknownst to him, the fire actually had little effect on Tim. In fact, it actually assisted in freeing Tim from the vines that Voldemort had used to trap him. Unfortunately though, not all, but a small part of the Forbidden Forest had burnt down because of the conflict.

Tim had later found Quirrell's corpse along with Harry's unconscious body down in one of the dungeon chambers which housed an extraordinary ornate mirror. Tim of course took Harry to the Hospital Wing, but not before making sure that Quirrell was most definitely dead, so that Voldemort wouldn't be able to use his body for anything else.

Gryffindor had succeeded in winning the House Cup for the first time in several years, due in part to the fact that Tim had won the Quidditch match, and therefore the Quidditch Cup, for Gryffindor. Sure, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had all gotten House Points for Gryffindor, more so than the rest of Gryffindor, but it was still because of Tim that they managed to win the House Cup.

"S'pose I'd better head back to Hogwarts… New school year and all…" Tim mumbled, getting up out of his seat and leaving the Three Broomsticks Inn without paying.

* * *

Tim's footsteps echoed around the otherwise silent and vacant halls of Hogwarts. It was still a few days before the new school year would officially begin, at least for the students. And although Tim did have some work that he needed to take care of, he was more concerned with finding himself a new place to stay within Hogwarts, as Tim needed more space to train and exercise.

As Tim walked, he noticed that the Hogwarts Castle seemed a little duller than it had been. When he walked down the halls a year prior, it was almost as if he could hear peppy, light string music as he walked. Now, that music seemed more eerie and disturbing. The torches that usually hung from the walls of some of the more poorly lit areas were gone, and an almost foreboding sense had taken hold of the castle.

He definitely didn't recall the entrance to Dumbledore's office looking so dark and uninviting. Nevertheless, Tim let himself in to find Dumbledore at his desk – where he almost always seemed to be.

"Ah, Tim." Dumbledore greeted. "Good to see you. How have your preparations been going for the new school year?"

"I haven't really done any, to be honest. I was actually more focused on seeing if I could have another room." Tim said.

"Another room?" Dumbledore asked.

Tim nodded, leaning up against the wall. "Yeah, I mean, while I stay here at Hogwarts. The one I've got now… I've sort of outgrown. I kinda need more room for my things."

"As much as I'd like to oblige you, Tim, I simply can't. We haven't got any other rooms available." Dumbledore sighed.

"Are you sure? 'Cause I was lookin' around and I gotta say that the basement's lookin' much bigger than my own room."

"We don't have a basement here at Hogwarts."

"What?" Tim asked. "The bottom. The very bottom of Hogwarts. Below the dungeons. The room with the giant face carved into the wall. I had a look around in there, and I wouldn't mind having that room. I mean, since it's going unused. There's nothing in it, really."

It took Dumbledore a moment to process what Tim had said, but once he did, he almost threw himself entirely into a blind rage. "You _opened_ the _Chamber_ of _Secrets_?!" He yelled suddenly.

" _That's_ what it's called?" Tim shrugged. "I wouldn't really call it 'secret'."

" _Answer_ me, Tim!" Dumbledore demanded. "Did you open the Chamber of Secrets?!"

"Well, yeah…" Tim shrugged. "Someone had to air out the place. It was starting to smell like snake shit. Oh yeah, speaking of which, I hope you don't mind, but there was this huge-ass snake hiding out in the statue of the old guy's face. It was really annoying me, so I decided to kill it."

"…You killed the Basilisk?" Dumbledore mumbled breathlessly.

" _What_?! That thing wasn't a Basilisk! It was, like, _barely_ fifty feet. It was more like an earthworm than a Basilisk! I killed bigger things than that when I was a wee lad."

Dumbledore just shook his head quickly in amazement and disbelief, rushing out of his office, Tim's eyes following him out.

* * *

Dumbledore stared in amazement at the corpse of the Basilisk, the frame of which was spread out along the cold stone floor. Tim walked over, placing a hand gently on the elderly wizard's shoulder. "You look a bit tense there, Dumblebro."

"I just… I can't believe that you…" Dumbledore faltered.

"Oh, _don't_ tell me _that_ thing was somebody's pet." Tim quickly argued. "Hagrid already told me about the giant dog he kept in the third-"

"No, no." Dumbledore interrupted. "It's… how were you able to do this…?"

"Why are you so surprised?" Tim asked. "It's just a snake."

"I…"

"Anyway, is it cool if I have this room?" Tim asked. Dumbledore nodded slowly, his shocked expression not leaving his face for some time. "K. Cool. Also, would you be able to do something about the smell? You know, use your magic or whatever so that the place doesn't smell like crap?"

"Y-yes…" Dumbledore muttered. "I can do that for you…"

"Awesome." Tim smiled. "Alright, I'll go and get my stuff. Thanks, Dumblebro!"

* * *

Once again seated in the Great Hall, Tim sat absolutely bored out of his mind, amongst the Hogwarts students of old, as well as an influx of new students, who were busy being sorted into their Houses. Dumbledore had made another droning speech, and the Sorting Hat had sung another terrible song. And Professor McGonagall had been calling students up to have the hat placed on their heads for the better part of ten minutes. That wouldn't have been a big deal had Tim not needed to sit through all the other crap before it.

"Lovegood, Luna." Professor McGonagall called.

A young blonde-haired girl walked out from the mess of new students, sitting down on the wooden stool as the Sorting Hat was placed on her head.

Once again, the Sorting Hat mused, its form wriggling about on the girl's head. "Ravenclaw!" The Hat shouted.

A smile broke out onto Luna's face, the hat removed from her head as she went down to join the Ravenclaws at their table that began to applaud.

"Weasley, Ginny!" McGonagall shouted. This time, a young ginger girl walked out from the crowd, her nervousness extremely pronounced and incredibly obvious. Her body shook just a little with each step, until she sat down on the stool, the Sorting Hat coming down onto her head.

" _Another_ Weasley…" the Hat muttered. "Well, there's only one obvious place to put you… Gryffindor!"

The students at the Gryffindor table started clapping wildly, Ginny moving over to find herself a seat.

Tim sighed. "Same crap as usual…" He muttered, slowly looking around the Great Hall.

Severus Snape was the only member of staff who had yet to show himself in the Great Hall, and while Tim didn't really care that he was missing, he was a little irritated, as he thought perhaps that Snape had somehow gotten out of having to attend. As far as Tim was aware, staff attendance at the Start-of-Term Feast was mandatory.

Once the Sorting Ceremony ended, the feast officially began. Tim paid careful mind to the things he ate, so as to give his body the proper amount of nutrients. It was during this time however, that Snape made his first appearance of the year in the Great Hall, moving over to the table and asking for McGonagall's assistance with something. Tim's eyes drew into focus upon hearing Snap mention Harry Potter.

"What about Harry?" Tim asked, his mouth full of steak.

"It is nothing that concerns you, Tim!" Snape said sharply. "I require the assistance of Professor McGonagall, so-"

"Actually, if it's alright with you, Snape, could I request that Tim join us?" McGonagall spoke up.

"You _can't_ be serious…" Snape mumbled, shaking his head. "Very well. The boys' expulsion has nothing to do with me, fortunately for them, but I _will_ remind _you_ , Tim, that you do not represent Gryffindor, so please leave the judgment to Professor McGonagall."

"Yeah, whatever." Tim dismissed. "I'm gonna take this with me, though, okay?" Tim said, pointing to the plate in front of him piled high with food, and although he phrased it like a question, it was more of a statement.

Tim followed both McGonagall and Snape out of the Great Hall, the latter leading the way. McGonagall kept on making glances at Tim, which he didn't fail to notice, before the three of them made it to a staircase which seemed to lead down into the dungeons.

Tim followed his two contemporaries into the depths, through an almost endless hall, as they came across a door, Snape opening it quickly. Tim's eyes widened at the sight of the room, and proceeded to rip off his shirt, simply by tensing his muscles, before gently laying it over a chair near a mahogany desk.

" _What_ _are_ you doing?" Snape asked.

"What does it look like? I'm covering up that chair. It looks like crap." Tim said.

"Yes, of course…" Snape uttered. "Because you need an excuse to walk around without a shirt."

"Would you rather I walk around naked?"

" _Yes_!" McGonagall interjected.

"What I would rather," Snape began. "Is that you start acting like a teacher, and not a child. As these two boys will attest, childish antics can lead to quite severe punishment." Tim looked over to see both Harry and Ron standing near crummy seats, stone-faced, and shivering in fear. "I'll leave you to decide their punishment…" Snape muttered to McGonagall, before turning to Tim. "If I find that you've taken anything from my office, I'll-"

"You'll _what_?" Tim interrupted, closing the gap between himself and Snape. "I beat you once before without even trying, so don't try and act all intimidating with me when we both know that if I were to have my way with you, you'd be dead."

Tim and Snape stood close to each other for some time, McGonagall getting a little hot and bothered over Tim's commanding presence, before finally, with no words spoken between them, Snape left his office, quickly closing the door behind him. Tim broke out into a quiet laughter.

McGonagall's fit of arousal over Tim's form had to be pushed aside so she could focus on the situation at hand. She turned to the two boys, and with a stern voice, commanded them to sit, which they did. "Now… will one of you explain to me why I've heard that the two of you, instead of taking the Hogwarts Express, decided it would be alright for you to take a flying Ford Anglia to Hogwarts?"

Ron swallowed audibly as Harry's shivering intensified. "W-we… W-w-we didn't have a choice…" Ron muttered. "There was a barrier preventing us from getting onto the platform. We could have lifted the barrier if we'd have been able to use magic, but then we would have gotten into trouble for using magic outside of school."

"Okay…" McGonagall nodded, turning to Harry. "But what about your owl, Hedwig, Potter? Surely you could have given her a letter and sent her to us. We could have arranged something."

"It would have taken too long…" Tim interjected. McGonagall stopped, looking behind her as her feelings of lust for Tim's body returned. "Owl or not, they would have arrived later than the other students anyway."

A small smile leaked out onto the Deputy Headmistress's face. "Well then, you boys be thankful that Professor Ihansha is willing to stick up for you. All that's left now, is how to deal with the issue of revealing magic to Mu-" McGonagall cut herself off before correcting herself and continuing. "Non-magical people…"

"I guess you could take away House Points." Tim suggested, letting McGonagall's near-slipup slide.

"Well, um…" Harry spoke softly for the first time since Tim had entered the room. "When we took the car… the school term hadn't started yet… s-so Gryffindor shouldn't have any House Points taken away from it… right…?"

"That's true…" McGonagall mulled. "Very well. The rest of Gryffindor won't suffer for your mistakes, which Mister Weasley, I think your sister will be pleased to hear."

Ron's face almost lit up. "Y-you mean-"

McGonagall nodded. "Yes, she's been sorted into Gryffindor." She took a long breath. "The both of you will serve detention tomorrow with me, as your punishment. Right now though, I want the two of you to head up to the Common Room. Do not say a word to anybody. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Professor McGonagall." Both boys answered together.

McGonagall's expression warmed slightly. "Alright, off you go then…" she said, the two boys rising to their feet and quickly scurrying out of Snape's office. McGonagall turned to Tim. "We should go back to the Great Hall, and tell Albus everything that's gone on. He should know about this."

"I agree." Tim nodded, but otherwise stayed still.

"What are you going to do with your shirt?"

"I'll leave it here," Tim shrugged. "It might actually make the place look better."

"Alright, if that's what you want." McGonagall smiled. Tim finally moved from his place over to the door, McGonagall taking the opportunity to graze one of her old, wrinkly hands against Tim's amazingly-defined chest before the two of them walked out of Snape's office, heading back to the Great Hall to rejoin the festivities.


	8. Evil's True Name

Tim smiled, looking down from the foot of the antechamber, his eyes wandering from one student to another, causing most of the female students to blush profusely from his masculine charm. This year, the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was located in the Upper Castle of Hogwarts, rather than down in the dungeon. This was most likely due to the fact that Hagrid's pet dog, Fluffy, was no longer guarding the corridor.

"Good morning, class." Tim greeted. "A lot of you I taught last year, but for those of you who don't know me, my name is Tim Ihansha, I'm _not_ Japanese, and I'll be taking you through Defense Against the Dark Arts this year."

Many of the second-year students quietened down straight away, now knowing not to speak while Tim was speaking. Tim walked down towards the front of the class, near the blackboard.

"Today, for our first lesson, I'll be teaching you the binding spell Petrificus Totalus! Everybody, please open your textbooks and turn to page thirty-one." Tim instructed. Hermione's hand shot straight up into the air. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"You taught us Petrificus Totalus last year." Hermione informed him.

"Yes, I did. But I figured that since this is the first class of the year, we'd just use this time to refresh our memories. Being forced to look over the notes from last year, I'm aware that a fair few of you had trouble with Petrificus Totalus." Tim's eyes wandered to Harry, who sat in-between Hermione and Ron and was well aware that Tim was more or less doing this for him. "That said, Miss Granger, I'm sure you'll be able to show us how it's done." Tim pointed to a spot next to him, and Hermione got up out of her seat to join Tim up the front of the class. A blush adorned Hermione's face as she stood next to her teacher. Her tall, handsome, well-defined and well-endowed teacher. "Okay, everybody," Tim started. "I want you to watch Miss Granger's wand movements carefully. Also pay attention to the way she pronounces and inflects the incantation."

"Uh… sir?" Hermione asked.

"Yes?"

"What am I supposed to use the spell on?"

Tim's eyes widened. "Oh, yes. Thank you, I almost forgot." He said, moving over to the desk by Hermione's side. On the desk was a small cage covered by a claret silken sheet. Tim removed the cover, the cage shaking as umpteen Cornish Pixies struggled from within their iron prison, not at all liking being restrained and gawked at by several students.

" _Cornish_ _Pixies_?" Seamus asked incredulously. " _Who_ in their right mind would be scared o' _those_?"

"Shut up, Seamus!" Wayne shouted from across the room. "Just because you have Down Syndrome-"

"That's big talk coming from someone who's in _Hufflepuff_!" Seamus interrupted.

"Hey! That's enough!" Tim yelled, the two boys silencing themselves immediately in fear of Tim potentially assaulting them. "Good! Okay, now, I'm going to release one of these into the room, and Miss Granger is going to use Petrificus Totalus to paralyze it, and then use Wingardium Leviosa to bring it over to the open chest on the other side of the room and drop it in." Tim turned to Hermione. "Do you think you can handle that?" Tim asked.

Hermione nodded. "Yep! Simple!" she chirped.

"Alright then…" Tim muttered, quickly opening the cage and then shutting it again. One Cornish Pixie managed to escape from the cage, quickly throwing the other students into a panic as it darted quickly across the room.

Hermione sighed, drawing her wand to her face as she began the incantation. " _Petrificus Totalus_!" she said firmly, pointing her wand straight at the Cornish Pixie. In a flash of yellow light, the pixie's body tightened, its limbs drawn straight, bound to its sides as it dropped from the sky and onto Neville Longbottom's desk, the doughy boy wide-eyed in fear. The class looked on in amazement as Hermione twirled her wand between her fingers, before giving it another swish and a flick. " _Wingardium Leviosa_!" she shouted, keeping her wand pointed as she directed the stiff body of the Cornish Pixie into the chest on the opposite side of the room with ease.

Tim walked over to the chest, closing the lid and locking it, before turning back to Hermione. "Well done, Miss Granger!" he smiled. "Twenty House Points to Gryffindor!"

"Th-thank you, sir…" Hermione smiled back, though her eyes averted Tim's, herself completely overwhelmed by his unrelenting passion.

"Now, who else would like to have a go?" Tim asked as Hermione returned to her seat. Nobody raised their hand or voiced their desire to try, and so Tim started looking around the room, willing to pick a student at random to attempt the challenge. Tim's eyes zeroed in on two Hufflepuff students sitting next to each other, who both seemed to be more focused on the cards they were playing with than the class Tim was teaching. "You two." Tim said. The rest of the class turned to the two students, who seemed too preoccupied with their cards to notice, which was especially odd, considering that both of them were terrified of the Cornish Pixie flying about in the room not thirty seconds ago.

Tim's patience started to wear thin as he approached the boys' desks, standing between them. One of the boys looked up, and, as his eyes met Tim's, he himself was almost put into a state of paralysis. "Uh…" the boy muttered.

"What's your name?" Tim asked softly.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley, sir…" he mumbled.

"Right…" Tim whispered, leaning closer to the boy. "I'm not sure if you were in my class last year, but if you were, you should remember what I did to Draco Malfoy for misbehaving in class."

Draco shivered upon hearing Tim say his name, having spent the better part of the class doing the utmost to _not_ get on Tim's bad side.

"I was…" Justin started shaking. "A-and I do, s-sir…"

Tim nodded. "Then… why do you think it's appropriate to not pay attention in class?"

Justin sat in his seat, completely dumbfounded, as he faced Tim. "It's… I don't… I…"

"Well _until_ you can give me a reason, a _good_ reason, as to why you weren't listening, or watching in class, I'll be confiscating these…" Tim reached over, pulling Justin's collection of Famous Witches and Wizards Cards towards him and into his pocket.

"Wait, but that's my… my Merlin deck…" Justin whimpered. Tim backhanded him upside the head, the boy toppling out of his chair. Tim turned to the other boy across from him.

"I want your cards as well." Tim said to him. This boy, Ernest Macmillan, knew better than to argue, and so gave Tim his deck of Famous Witches and Wizards Cards right away. "Good…" Tim muttered, a smile breaking out onto his face. "I think you've just volunteered yourself for paralyzing a pixie. Come on, up you get…"

* * *

With a hefty sigh, Tim collapsed onto his bed. He just finished showering after an absolutely intense four hour training session where he worked almost every inch of his body until it burned with a passionate fire from within.

It had been quite a rough week for Tim, not really in terms of teaching, but outside of class work. Harry had requested Tim's help in dealing with Colin Creevey, a first-year Gryffindor student who would not leave him alone no matter how hard he tried. Tim had absolutely no trouble keeping the kid in line, but he also noticed that a lot of first-year students enjoyed bullying Luna Lovegood, just because she was, as Professor Flitwick put it, a little eccentric.

Nevertheless, night had come at Hogwarts, the students sleeping in silence in preparation for the next day of classes.

Well… most of them. There was still one student out of bed.

Not feeling the least bit tired after his intense workout, Tim shuffled about on the bed, reaching over to his bedside table, where Justin's collection of Famous Witches and Wizards Cards were. Tim unearthed a groan as he started talking to himself, thumbing through Justin's cards. "So he's got one Artemisia Lufkin card, one Bridget Wenlock card, a Merlin card…"

Tim moved to a seated position on his bed immediately upon hearing the sound of footsteps behind the giant snake-indented stone door at the head of the room. Putting the cards down, Tim got off his bed and walked over to the door as it began to open, eventually revealing Ron's sister Ginny, to be standing on the other side, looking like she was in some sort of daze.

" _The Heir_ …" she whispered.

"Ginny, are you okay? You don't look so good." Tim said, genuine concern in his voice.

" _The Chamber of Secrets must be opened_." Ginny spoke softly, her eyes dead, her tone low. " _The enemies of the Heir must die. It is his will_ … _All Muggle-borns_ … _All enemies of the Heir_ … _they must die_ …"

"What are you talking about, Ginny? What's going on?"

" _All enemies of the Heir must beware_ … _Beware their impending death_ …"

"Okay, this is just getting creepy…" Tim muttered, his eyes moving from Ginny's to focus on the old book she was clutching in her hands, the book held tight against her chest. It was glowing an eerie green color and was unlike any book that Tim had seen at Hogwarts so far. "What have you got there?" Tim asked. "May I have a look?"

" _No_!" Ginny snapped, but Tim took it from her anyway. A low moan escaped from Ginny's mouth as life seemed to flood back into her eyes. The young girl took one uneasy step before collapsing into Tim's powerful arms. Tim knew right away that Ginny's previous state had to have something to do with the book that Tim was now holding in his hand.

Tim took Ginny over to his bed, laying her down and trying to get her as comfortable as possible, before looking at the book himself. It was still glowing, perhaps even brighter than before, but upon closer inspection, Tim discovered that it was a diary, belonging to one 'T. M. Riddle' according to the inscription.

Tim's chest started to hurt, and he knew right away that it had something to do with Voldemort. Slowly running his fingers across his scar, Tim sighed, his nipples hardening. He could feel Voldemort's presence. He wasn't sure exactly where it was, but he knew it was around. It was unmistakable.

His eyes drifting from the diary, Tim looked around the room, thinking perhaps Voldemort may have used Quirrell's body again to try and enter the chamber. He quickly dismissed the idea however, recalling how he had torn Quirrell's body limb from limb, and that it would have been impossible for Voldemort to have controlled him again in that state.

Tim looked down at the unconscious Ginny, his brow furrowed. He had to get some answers. Moving to lock the chamber, so as to prevent anyone from coming in, as well as give Ginny some time to rest, Tim went to the one person who he knew would be able to help.

* * *

"Hey…!" Tim grunted, only a little surprised to find Dumbledore sitting in his office. Dumbledore looked up at Tim, saying nothing. "Would you be able to help me with something?"

"Of course, Tim." Dumbledore smiled warmly. His smile faded quickly as Tim tossed him the diary.

"You wouldn't know anything about this, would you?" Tim asked. "Who this Riddle person is? I caught Ginny, Ron Weasley's sister, trying to come into my room. She was saying something about the Heir and how the chamber had to be opened. She was holding that diary, and when I took it from her, she just collapsed. But… as I held the diary… I could feel Voldemort… like he was right next to me…"

Dumbledore stayed silent for a while, unsure of what to tell him. He knew, of _course_ he knew, but it wasn't really something that he could just come out and say. Nevertheless, Dumbledore sighed, deciding it best that Tim know the truth.

"Tim, you know Voldemort only by that name, but he also went by another." Dumbledore began, talking very slow and calm. "Tom Riddle. That was his… human name, for lack of a better word. I rescued him from an orphanage and taught him myself, fifty years ago, when I was the Transfiguration teacher here at Hogwarts. He was a sweet boy in the beginning, much like Harry. A little confused, perhaps afraid, but over time he became more and more unruly, until finally, once he left Hogwarts, he disappeared. Many years later, he resurfaced under the name Lord Voldemort, his soul twisted and distorted by his practice of the Dark Arts. Of course, you know all that happened after that."

Everything that Dumbledore said was quickly absorbed into Tim's being, and once Dumbledore had finished, there was only one response he could give. Tim's nostrils flared, his entire body tensing. "…You senile bastard!" Tim snapped, uppercutting the elderly wizard out of his chair before Dumbledore fell to the ground. "You never _ever_ thought of mentioning this to me?! That Voldemort went by another name and was a student here?! That's a pretty damn crucial bit of information you forgot to tell me!"

"Th-the man that Voldemort became was _nothing_ like the child that Tom Riddle was-"

"Well what about the diary, huh?!" Tim shouted. "Ginny Weasley, a bloody first-year, got her hands on his diary! How do you explain that?!"

"I don't know, Tim." Dumbledore answered truthfully, slowly recovering. "Perhaps, that is something that you'll need to ask her yourself… As for what should be done with the diary, I think it would be best if it was destroyed. I'm certain that Tom, or Voldemort, enchanted the diary. That would have been the only way for young Ginny to have succumbed to his desires. If the diary is destroyed, we can mitigate the possibility of something like this happening again."

"Fine!" Tim's body jerked. "I'll get rid of the diary, but this… this isn't over…! There's something you're not telling me, and I'm gonna find out what it is!" Tim stormed out of Dumbledore's office, leaving the wizard alone.

In spite of the bruise that was already starting to show itself on his face, Dumbledore smiled.

* * *

Tim arrived back in his room just as Ginny started regaining consciousness. She groaned softly to herself as her eyelids flickered, Tim hurrying over to her. "Hey, easy…" he cooed.

Ginny let out another moan as her eyes found the God-like face that was her savior. "Y-you're Professor Ihansha… Wh-what am I doing here?" she asked softly.

"So you don't remember?" Tim probed. Ginny shook her head. "That diary you had, where did you get it?"

"A-ah! D-diary?" Ginny stammered. "I don't know. I found it in one of my schoolbooks. I thought someone might have misplaced it."

"Well, I just want to let you know that the diary belonged to Lord Voldemort." Tim explained. Ginny's eyes widened. "Don't worry. You're not going to get into trouble or anything. I've disposed of the diary, and although I have told Dumblebro about this, nobody else will know, okay? You won't lose any House Points, you're not getting a detention, but I am gonna take you to the Hospital Wing now and have one of the nurses check to see if you're alright."

"Okay…" Ginny groaned. Tim smiled, taking the young girl into his arms, slowly getting to his feet. Ginny's body trembled slightly with each step Tim took. "I'm so sorry…" Ginny whispered.

"Don't be…" Tim cooed. "What happened to you could have happened to anyone." As Tim looked into Ginny's eyes, he once again saw the person that Voldemort had taken from him. "Just promise me, please… that, at the very least, you'll try and make sure this doesn't happen again…"

"I… I promise, Professor Ihansha…" Ginny mumbled.

"Call me Tim…" He smiled, the young witch drifting off to sleep in his arms.

As the two of them left the room, Tim thought that if the only bad thing that happened that year was Ginny getting possessed by Voldemort, it would be a better year than the last.

And as it turned out, it was.


	9. Draco's Revenge

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts!" Dumbledore greeted, both hands raised into the air, silencing the chatter and applause of Hogwarts students in the Great Hall, applause which had broken out over the Choir's rendition of a song called 'Double Trouble', led by Professor _Flitwick_ of all people. Dumbledore cleared his throat. "There are, of course, some notices I should give before the start of the term. Silvanus Kettleburn has decided to retire. Fortunately, his place as Professor of Care of Magical Creatures will be taken by our very own Rubeus Hagrid."

Hagrid rose to his feet at the roar of applause from Gryffindor students, Hagrid's girth pushing the staff table out a few inches. Nervously, Hagrid sat back down, the applause of students ceasing soon after.

"In addition!" Dumbledore's voice called out from the silence. "The Forbidden Forest, which is also coincidentally the site of the new Care of Magical Creatures class, has been restored. It is also still imperative that you do not enter the Forbidden Forest unless accompanied by a teacher."

"Does anybody else think Professor Dumbledore looks a little different?" Flitwick asked quietly.

"Like you can talk…" Tim muttered. "That's a pretty obvious toupée you're wearing…"

"What are you talking about? I've always looked like this." Flitwick stated.

Tim snorted. "No you haven't! You used to look old and bald. Now you're… I don't know _what_ you are…!"

"What do you mean by _that_ exactly?!"

"Well, nothing, it's just… you look like a completely different person. And since when were _you_ the choirmaster?"

"I've _always_ been the choirmaster."

Aurora Sinistra, who had been sitting beside Tim, turned to him and nodded. "He has, Tim! And he's always looked like this."

" _Seriously_?!" Tim asked, head cocked to the side before sighing dejectedly. "Alright, if you all say so… I mean, I'm _pretty_ _sure_ I'm right, but whatever…" Tim mumbled, not wanting to say anything more on the matter, instead focusing his thoughts on the year ahead.

* * *

Tim had redesigned the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom a little bit over the holiday break. Not really because he wanted to, but because the rest of the school seemed to just change daily, in terms of both appearance and layout. In fact, Tim had actually had a bit of trouble finding the class again, as he was certain that the route he took to get to it this year was not the same as the year before. It was all very strange to Tim, because to him, it seemed like it was only a week ago that he had started his second year of teaching at Hogwarts. But now, he was already onto his third.

"Good morning, third-years. Once again, my name is Tim Ihansha, and I will be your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year." Tim smiled. "Our first lesson this year will concern the Freezing Spell, Glacius! Everybody, please open your textbooks to page-" Tim was cut off as, just as she had done last year, Hermione shot her hand up into the air. Tim's smile widened. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"I know how to perform the Glacius spell, sir!" she beamed.

"Then by all means, Miss Granger. Feel free to join me at the front of the class." Tim said, though it was more like an instruction. Hermione nodded, rising to her feet and doing just that. "Would you then be able to tell the rest of the class what the Glacius Spell does?"

"Of course!" Hermione chirped. "Glacius is a Spell that conjures a breath of freezing cold air from the tip of the wand, which can be used to put out fires, freeze water to allow people to walk across it, and can also be used as a Combat Spell against fire-based creatures such as Salamanders and Fire Crabs."

" _Very_ _good_ , Miss Granger!" Tim smiled, genuinely impressed. "Now, if you'll look over to the desk, you'll see I have a sealed container on top of it. I want you to use the Glacius Spell on it to freeze its contents. If you do that, you can have what's inside it."

Hermione closed her eyes, drawing a deep breath as she brought her wand up with her right hand, pressing it into her left. Determination clear in her eyes, Hermione opened them, wand poised. " _Glacius_!" she shouted, a white mist protruding from her wand and covering the container. The container shook for a second, and then stopped.

"Well done, Miss Granger!" Tim smiled. "An excellent performance!"

"Th-thank you, sir…" Hermione mumbled, her cheeks reddening.

"For that awesome display, I'll award fifty House Points to Gryffindor!" Tim smiled once more. All the Gryffindor students in the class lit up their eyes in approval. Everyone else did not, although Tim paid them no mind. "Alright, for the rest of you, page three hundred and one in your textbooks." Tim ordered, before turning to Hermione. "Oh, and Miss Granger, feel free to take that with you after class is over." Tim motioned to the container.

Hermione nodded, smiling.

* * *

Tim was wandering around the Upper Castle, enjoying some of the free time he had. As far as he was aware, Voldemort had yet to make another appearance, but Tim knew he had to be on guard and ready for anything.

"Tim! Tim!" Ron shouted, almost rushing up to him from out of nowhere.

"What is it?" Tim asked.

"It's Neville! Draco's gone and locked him in the Muggle Studies classroom!"

"I don't see how this can be a problem. Isn't there a Spell to unlock doors?"

"Well… yes, but it's more complicated than that! Draco's gone and released a ghoul too!"

"That still doesn't explain why Mister Longbottom can't just use the door-unlocking Spell!"

"Please! We need your help!" Ron begged.

Ordinarily, Tim would have turned Ron down, but if Draco was involved, that meant there was a small opportunity for Tim to beat the crap out of him, which Tim always enjoyed. "You know, you're lucky you have red hair, Ron. Anyone else, and I might have said 'no'."

"Thank you, Professor!"

"Don't worry about it." Tim brushed Ron's thanks aside. "Now, where is the Muggle Studies classroom?"

"On the fifth floor. Harry's waiting for us, so we should probably hurry." Ron said, almost breaking into a run immediately after. Tim followed, heading down two sets of stairs to find Harry standing near a locked door outside a classroom.

"Professor!" Harry shouted.

"'Sup, Harry?" Tim greeted.

"Are you guys ready?" Ron asked.

"Definitely." Tim smiled, hoping that Draco would be inside.

Ron drew out his wand, whipping it slightly against the lock on the door. " _Alohomora_!" he shouted, the lock disappearing in a quick flash of light. "Come on!"

Harry pushed the door open, the three of them walking inside. Almost as if on cue, Draco, along with Crabbe, Goyle and another Slytherin student that Tim had never seen before, wandered in from what seemed to Tim like another stretch of hallway.

"Well if it isn't Weasley, Potter and Ihansha!" Draco snarled. "What are _you_ _three_ doing here?!"

Tim smirked. "That's no way to address a teacher, Draco." He said firmly, folding his arms. "Anyway, apparently you've gone and locked Mister Longbottom in here somewhere. Is that right?"

"We _might_ have!" the newbie Slytherin taunted. "But you'll have to get by _us_ first to find out!"

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Tim asked, a little bewildered.

"This is Pike Bronson." Draco simpered. "The newest member of my gang!"

Tim started laughing. "You're hilarious! It's too bad you're a douchebag!"

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Enough talk! Let's get 'em, boys!" he shouted.

The four Slytherin boys drew out their wands, shouting incantations as Flipendo and Melofors shots flew across the room. Tim was easily able to dodge everything that was directed at him, while Harry took cover behind one of the many display cases that were hoisted up on wooden platforms throughout the room.

Ron's knees buckled and he started moaning, having been hit by the Melofors Pumpkinhead Jinx. Tim turned to him and saw that Ron's head had been encased in a pumpkin. Tim dashed over and ripped the skin of the pumpkin apart, freeing Ron's head. "Thanks, Professor…!" he breathed, Tim grabbing Ron's wrist and throwing him behind some cover near Harry.

" _Expelliarmus_!" Harry shouted, after moving up from behind the cover, wand pointed at Goyle, whose own wand flew from his hand and slid across the floor. Harry then raised his wand above his head, a shimmering blue light forming at its tip as Harry pointed his wand back at Goyle. " _Flipendo_!" he cried, the light whipping forward and knocking Goyle to the ground.

Tim moved back a few feet so he could get a running start, which he did, before leaping into the air, right leg outstretched, toes pulled back. His aim true, Tim's foot found contact with Pike's chest, who crashed through a Muggle display and was killed instantly from the impact, although nobody except Tim knew that at the time.

Tim turned, elbowing Crabbe in the face, who thought that a sneak attack against Tim would work. Crabbe dropped to the ground, unconscious.

" _Rictusempra_!" Ron yelled hoarsely, a wave of silver light striking Draco in the chest, who fell to his knees and started laughing uncontrollably from the Tickling Charm.

"Please…!" Draco heaved, his chest becoming sore from unrelenting laughter. "Please stop…!" he begged.

Tim walked over slowly, looking at Draco with scorn. Raising his left hand above his head, Tim quickly forced two of his fingers into Draco's neck, knocking him out as well. Tim sighed, turning to Harry and Ron. "Well done, both of you. Twenty House Points each to Gryffindor."

"Wow! Thanks, Professor!" Ron cheered, before looking around at the four Slytherin boys, both Ron and Harry failing to notice the blood that was slowly seeping and had pooled around Pike's body.

"When do you think they'll wake up?" Harry asked.

"Hopefully never!" Ron shouted.

"Well, anyway… We've still got to save Neville from the ghoul." Harry reminded him.

"Well he's not in here, and since Draco and his cronies came in from over _there_ ," Tim pointed to the door on the opposite side of the room. "It's pretty obvious that's where he'd be."

Harry and Ron nodded, following Tim as he walked over to the door, forcing it open and walking down the dimly lit hallway that followed it. There was another door at the end, which Tim opened with the same aversion to grace as before.

The new room that Tim, Harry and Ron found themselves in was not at all like the Muggle Studies classroom. There was only one light in the classroom which hung near another door. The rest of the classroom seemed almost shrouded in darkness. From the looks of things, it seemed like a music room. There was a grand piano, a pipe organ, several music stands and stools set up neatly in the room, with a violin and two bass guitars seemingly strewn about.

"Let's head through that door on the left." Harry suggested.

"Fine." Tim said, walking over to one of the guitars on the ground and picking it up. "But I'm keeping this bass."

Harry and Ron shrugged, the former moving to open the door.

The two Gryffindor boys started shaking as they heard Neville Longbottom scream. Tim eased the boys apart, walking through the door to find Neville backed up against the wall, a funny-looking ghoul closing in on him.

"Hey!" Tim shouted, the ghoul turning to him. Tim ripped off his shirt. "Come at me, bro."

With a defiant roar, the ghoul lunged at Tim. Tim smiled, gently placing the bass guitar on the ground before reaching out with his right hand and gripping the ghoul's neck. The ghoul struggled pointlessly, it clear to everyone that its fate had been sealed by challenging Tim.

Tim started laughing, taking great pleasure in watching the ghoul writhe in his grip. Tim tightened his grip just a little, the ghoul's unholy yellow eyes dimming slightly. Letting out a roar of his own, Tim's hold on the ghoul reached its maximum intensity. With a little yelp escaping its body, the ghoul's eyeballs shot out of their sockets and onto the floor.

If it was impossible for a Muggle to kill a ghoul before, Tim had just done it. Tim relaxed his hand, allowing the ghoul's body to slip through his fingers and fall to the floor. Tim turned to the boys. "Right. That's enough for one day. I think it's time you three went back to the Gryffindor common room."

"Thank you for saving me, Professor!" Neville cheered.

"No problem." Tim sighed, reaching down to pick up his bass.


	10. The Warrior's One Fear

"So what's the deal with all the added workers?" Tim asked, seated across from Dumbledore in his office. Tim was referring to the great number of house-elves he had seen walking about on the floor.

"They're just moving some magical artifacts up to another room."

"What kind of artifacts?"

"A flying catapult, a few fanged Frisbees, and a magical wardrobe that links to another world, among other things."

"Oh, cool. Do you think I'd be able to show that to my class sometime?" Tim asked.

Dumbledore shook his head. "It would be too dangerous, Tim. A powerful witch is said to live in that world."

"A witch?"

"Yes. The realm that lies within the wardrobe was cast into an eternal winter by the White Witch." Dumbledore shook his head once more. "However, that's none of your concern, and not why I called you here."

"Why _did_ you call me here?"

"Pike Bronson." Dumbledore said. "He was found dead in the Muggle Studies classroom this morning."

"Is that right?" Tim asked softly, not at all surprised that Dumbledore knew.

"I know you were the one who killed him, Tim."

"Okay. And what are you gonna do about it?"

"Nothing." Dumbledore said surprisingly. "Pike was never an academic student, according to his records, and to be honest, I don't actually remember Pike myself even receiving a Hogwarts Acceptance Letter. As such, I'm willing to look the other way this time. I just wanted to let you know that that kind of conduct would generally be absolutely unacceptable were you to have killed a student of greater importance. However, given the circumstances, and the fact that we need you around to fight against Voldemort, not to mention the trouble we could get in with the Ministry, I'm going to do my utmost to make sure that no one finds out about this."

"Do whatever you think is best, Dumblebro."

"I will." Dumbledore smiled.

* * *

The third-year Defense Against the Dark Arts class stood in a huddled mass, looking out with uncertainty at the locked cupboard as it rocked back and forth with vigor.

"Would anyone like to guess what they think is inside the cupboard?" Tim asked.

"I reckon that's a boggart, that is." Dean Thomas smiled proudly.

"Good work, Mister Thomas."

The cupboard shook again, the boggart struggling to get out.

"Would any of you know what a boggart looks like?" Tim asked.

"Nobody knows. Boggarts are shape-shifters." Hermione piped up.

"Correct, Miss Granger!" Tim praised. "At least, according to this book…" Tim threw the book he was holding away. "And that's what can make them one of the most dangerous creatures you might ever come across."

"So they can shape-shift into anything?" Neville Longbottom asked.

"Not anything…" Tim said. "Boggarts turn themselves into the one thing we fear the most. So, when I open the door, only the student facing the boggart will know what it will look like."

"What if the only thing we fear is fear itself?" Seamus asked.

"Okay, Mister Finnigan." Tim frowned. "I want you out of my class."

"What?"

"Grab your books and get out." Tim said sternly. "I won't tolerate any sass from you."

"Are you _serious_?"

"I'm taking ten House Points from Gryffindor. Unless you wanna make it more, I suggest you get out of my classroom." Tim warned. A few Gryffindor students mumbled complaints about Seamus costing them House Points as Seamus grabbed his books from his desk and slowly walked out of the class. "He's lucky I didn't bust his nuts…" Tim muttered, clearing his throat. "Now, as I was saying, generally, boggarts are one of the hardest creatures to defeat with magic, as there's only one charm that can really affect them."

The cupboard shook again, this time the loudest and most intense it had ever been. Dean raised his hand. "So are you saying that knockback jinxes and body binds won't work?" he asked.

"That's right." Tim nodded. "But, as I said, there is one charm that does. It's called Riddikulus, which is what we'll be focusing on today." Tim looked around for a student to help with the demonstration. Hermione's hand shot into the air once again, and Tim smiled. "I'm _loving_ the enthusiasm, Miss Granger, but I think this time we'll get someone else to start off. Don't worry though, all of you will have your chance against the boggart."

"This class is ridiculous…" Draco muttered.

"Well Draco, looks like you've just volunteered yourself for the demonstration. Up you come." Tim ushered.

"While I would _love_ to, sir," Draco began, a shit-eating grin on his face. "I can't, for you see, my wand-holding arm is broken." Draco showed off to the class that his right arm was in fact in a bandage.

"I can see that…" Tim muttered. "And how did you break your arm?"

"Oh, it was during the Care of Magical Creatures class. Hagrid's bastardized creature attacked me, completely unprovoked."

"You _did_ provoke it, Malfoy!" Ron shouted.

"Either way, I don't see why you can't just use your left hand." Tim said.

"You can talk to Madam Pomfrey if you want. _She's_ the one that said I shouldn't engage in any strenuous activities." Draco smirked.

"I bet she did…" Tim mumbled. "Very well then, Mister Longbottom, how about you?"

Neville's face grew pale just at Tim mentioning his name. "How about I what?" he asked.

"Would you like to help me with the demonstration?"

"Uh… no…" Neville answered honestly, the rest of the students laughing a little.

Tim sighed. "Nothing's going to happen to you, Neville, now come on." Neville started shaking, but never the less made his way out from the group and over to Tim. Another sudden shake from the cupboard almost caused Neville's bones to jump out of his skin. "Alright," Tim sighed again. "So, the Riddikulus Charm is very easy to perform, but can also be quite difficult to maintain. It requires complete mental dedication, and especially in the case of a boggart, you need to have a clear mental image in your mind."

"Wh-what do I do, s-sir?" Neville asked quietly.

"I need you to think of something right now, Neville. What scares you the most?" Tim asked.

"Professor Snape…" Neville whispered, all the other students erupting into laughter. Even Tim chuckled a little.

"Yes, I can see that… Ugly man he is… Is there perhaps anyone else that you find scary?"

"Well, um… my grandmother, who I live with, but I don't want the boggart turning into her either!" he shouted defensively.

"Okay…" Tim mulled. "And what kind of clothes does your grandmother wear?"

"A long green dress, a weird hat, and a big red handbag. Why do you ask?"

Tim stepped forward, leaning down and whispering instructions into Neville's ear. "I'm gonna open that cupboard in a moment, okay? And I want you to perform the Riddikulus Charm. At the same time, I want you to imagine, as best you can, Snape wearing your grandmother's clothes." Tim pulled away. "Think you can handle that?"

Neville nodded, in spite of the sweat appearing on his forehead. Tim walked over to the cupboard, grasping the handle and pulling the door open, walking back with it. Slowly, the boggart – who had assumed the form of Professor Snape, walked out, slowly making its way over to Neville, who felt his energy leave him.

Summoning up all the courage he had, Neville retrieved his wand and pointed it straight at the boggart. " _Riddikulus_!" he shouted. The boggart staggered back a few feet, suddenly becoming adorned in outlandish and clearly feminine clothing. Neville smiled as the rest of the class laughed, the boggart looking around in confusion.

"Very good, Neville. That was perfect!" Tim smiled. "Ten House Points to Gryffindor!" Tim turned to the rest of the class. "Okay, everybody else, I want you to form a line at the back of the class, and picture the thing you fear the most. When you're ready to use the Riddikulus Charm, think of something funny, and have at it!"

The class struggled to get into an orderly line, mostly due to Draco, Crabbe and Goyle attempting to shove their way to the front. Tim nodded to Neville, who walked back over to his desk and sat down. Ron, who happened to be at the front of the line, looked on in fear as the boggart turned its attention to him.

In one moment, Professor Snape stood scowling at Ron, the next, an Acromantula stood in its place. Ron's face seemed to twist in agony from even just facing the creature.

"Go on, Ron, you're gonna do fine." Tim told him.

"Come on, Ron!" Neville shouted. "If I can do it, _you_ can!"

Ron swallowed audibly, taking his wand out of his robe and pointing it at the boggart, although his hand was shaky. " _Riddikulus_!"

Just like before, the boggart staggered, although this time it was because its Acromantula form had suddenly found roller skates attached to all of its eight legs. Ron laughed heartily as the boggart struggled about pointlessly before collapsing, having become completely immobile.

"Nice work, Ron! That's another ten House Points for Gryffindor!" Tim cheered. "Alright, who's next?"

Padma Patil, a young Ravenclaw student stepped up, brandishing her wand as the boggart quickly morphed and shape-shifted to take the form of a giant cobra. The cobra hissed wildly before lunging at Padma.

" _Riddikulus_!" she said firmly, the boggart's form changing completely. Unlike with Neville and Ron, where the boggart's general form remained the same, only being adorned with different clothing or accessories, Padma forced the boggart to turn into a completely different form, a giant jack-in-the-box.

"I think that's scarier than the snake…" Tim muttered. "Oh well…" he shrugged. "Ten House Points to Ravenclaw!"

Padma sat down in her seat just as Neville and Ron had done, Harry stepping up to face the boggart. Tim's body tensed, himself knowing what Harry's fear was.

Just as the boggart took the form of Lord Voldemort, that is, a Voldemort at full strength imbued with hatred and darkness, _not_ the decrepit force that possessed Quirrell who Tim faced, Tim jumped to Harry's defense, placing himself between the boy and the boggart.

And just like that, Voldemort was no more. Instead, a young girl who looked to be thirteen or possibly a little older stood where Voldemort had. The girl's waist-length hair was the same color as Tim's. Where her eyes should have been, there were only empty sockets, blood slowly dripping from them. Her skin was pale and lifeless. Even the freckles on her face looked more like sores and scabs.

Tim's breathing quickened. "Harry, now! Use the Riddikulus Charm!" he shouted, but Harry didn't move.

Hermione quickly darted out from the line, drawing her wand and pointing it at the boggart. " _Riddikulus_!" she shouted.

The boggart hissed at Hermione, itself struggling to change into the appropriate from. This came from the confusion the boggart apparently had, as although the boggart was facing Tim, Hermione was the one that used the Riddikulus Charm on it.

Tim saw an opening and took it, rushing forward and pushing the boggart back into the cupboard and locking the door. Tim exhaled heavily. "Thank you, Miss Granger… Fifty House Points to Gryffindor…"

* * *

Tim stared out at the beautiful ravine from the safety of the covered bridge, listening to the calming sounds of the wind.

Ever since coming face to face with his boggart, Tim hadn't been able to get it out of his mind, which was incredibly surprising, especially for him. He, of course, knew what his boggart was and why. It was the entire reason he came to Hogwarts to defeat Voldemort, after all.

"Damn it…!" Tim muttered, clenching his hands into fists, his entire body tense. He had to calm himself down. If he wasn't careful, he'd end up doing serious damage to the school.

"Professor?"

Tim stopped, feeling his anger fade away almost instantly, once again being replaced by his passion and undying love. Tim turned to see Harry looking at him from the other end of the bridge. "Har-" Tim cut himself off. "Mister Potter… Why aren't you going to Hogsmeade with the others?" He asked, having noticed a large group of third-year students leave with Argus Filch a while ago.

"I couldn't get my permission slip signed." Harry said dejectedly, walking over to Tim.

"What kind of dumb reason is that? You could've just forged the signature!"

"But that wouldn't have been the right thing to do." Harry pointed out.

"Do you think Voldemort cares about what's right?" Tim asked. Harry didn't answer, and so Tim sighed. "Listen, Harry. When I was six years old, I lied about my age to get into the military. Now, if I hadn't have done that, there's no way we would've won the war."

"This isn't war though, sir. This is just a visit to Hogsmeade."

Tim turned, looking straight into Harry's eyes, the boy's soul penetrated voluptuously. "Everything is a war." Tim told him. "Come with me. I want to show you something…"


	11. Trelawney: Muggle or Squib?

Harry stared out in amazement at his surroundings. Sure, he had gone down into the depths of the school before, like going into the dungeons for Potions class, as well as Defense Against the Dark Arts in his first year, and even Nearly Headless Nick's deathday party, but everything here was just so unlike anything else he'd seen at Hogwarts.

To him, the chamber stretched on for what seemed like forever, eventually culminating at the carved stone head of Salazar Slytherin, the rest of its 'body' submerged deep in the waters that surrounded the stone walkway of the room.

What really stood out for Harry though were the objects in the room. Set up in one area of the chamber was a king-sized bed, along with a stone-carved bedside table and a torch hanging on the wall. In another, a well-used punching bag was set up, hanging from the ceiling. Additionally, there was also a barbell with six plates on each side, and large pieces of cracked stone. They didn't look like they belonged to anything, they were just pieces of cracked stone.

"Professor… Wh-what is this place?" Harry asked softly.

"This… is my room." Tim said epically. "Although, it used to be called the Chamber of Secrets. It's not really a secret though. Most of my time when I'm not teaching, I spend here training. At the end of every day, I train until I sweat blood. I don't stop until I do."

"Is that healthy, sir?"

"Of course. Blood's natural. Not like sugar." He said to him. "Now, remember when I said I'd take you under my wing and train you?" Tim asked. Harry nodded. "Well that time is now. I'm gonna build you up so you won't be scared of Voldemort anymore." Tim motioned for Harry to follow him over to his makeshift gym. "You're not weak, Harry. You just look that way. That'll all change when you get a bit more muscle on you though. So let's get started…"

"Wait, Professor, I… Is this going to be a permanent thing?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the thing is, I'm on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and I'm just not sure I'm going to be able to fit this in, along with regular school work, homework and study _and_ Quidditch practice."

"Well in that case, I don't want you to worry about Defense Against the Dark Arts. I'll give you top marks on all the theory tests, but I'll still need you to participate in the practical elements."

"Can you do that?"

" _I_ can do whatever _I_ want." Tim said thusly. "See, one of the things that people don't understand is, with enough hard work, anyone can overcome anything. Look at me, for example. I'm a Muggle, and even Dumblebro's scared of me."

"You mean Professor Dumbledore-"

"Watch your mouth, boy!" Tim shouted, before shaking his head. "What I mean is, if you put in the work, you'll get the results you want, and if you believe in yourself and have a good heart, you'll always come out on top. Now give me one-hundred pushups!" Tim ordered.

"Are you serious?"

"I am. Now come on. Drop and give me one-hundred pushups."

"Professor, I just don't think that I can do that many."

Tim sighed. Had it been any other student, Tim would have likely physically abused them, but not Harry. "Okay, how about this: do as many pushups as you want, and for every pushup you do, I'll award one House Point to Gryffindor."

Harry's eyes shone with a new sense of determination as he removed his glasses, placing them down on the ground before pressing his hands against the cold stone floor.

"Ready?" Tim asked.

Harry nodded.

* * *

Hermione stormed out into the courtyard, followed by an angry Ron and a rather apathetic Harry. Tim was sitting near the fountain, eating his lunch as the three walked by.

"Are you alright, Miss Granger?" Tim asked, getting up.

"Scabbers has gone missing." Hermione informed him, turning to Tim quickly. He could tell by her stance that she was suppressing a lot of anger.

"Scabbers isn't _missing_!" Ron shouted. "Your stupid cat _killed_ him! I swear, if there was a word like bitch, but for cats, then yours would be _that_!"

"Hey, don't bloody swear!" Tim ordered. "Now, who is Scabbers?" he asked.

"He's Ron's pet rat. Oh, and by the way, Ron, Crookshanks is a _he_." Hermione stared daggers into her friend.

"A rat…" Tim mulled. "Sorry guys. I can't say I've seen one. But if I do find one, you'll be the first to know."

"If it helps, he's missing a toe." Hermione said.

"You're not gonna find him, 'cause he's dead…" Rom mumbled.

"Oh be quiet, Ronald…" Hermione sighed.

"Don't tell me to be quiet!"

"Well don't accuse Crookshanks of killing your rat!"

"Look, guys," Tim interjected. "I think this is getting a little out of hand. Aren't you all friends? I mean, it's just a rat."

Ron's eyes widened as if Tim had insulted every fiber of his being. " _Just_ a _rat_?!" Ron shouted. "Scabbers has been in my family for almost twelve years! I grew up with him! How would you feel if you lost a family member?!"

Something inside Tim snapped, his fiery eyes burning deep into Ron's as Tim got up, quickly grabbing Ron's neck with his right hand and lifting him a few feet off the ground.

"P-Professor!" Harry and Hermione yelled in alarm, although Tim took no notice of them. Only Ron.

"Don't talk to me about losing a family member, you impudent child. You have no idea of the horrors that this world contains. So you lost a stupid rat! What about your brothers?! What about your _sister_?!" Tim roared, bringing Ron in close. "Believe me when I tell you that it is just a rat, and if all you end up losing in this lifetime is a rat, you'll live a pretty cushy existence." Tim dropped Ron to the ground, the boy coughing and spluttering as Tim looked down at him with scorn. "The way you're going about things now, Ron, you're gonna end up losing your friends too. Just look at Miss Granger. Do you think she appreciates the fact that you're accusing her cat of killing your rat without any proof? Grow a damn pair, Ron." Tim snarled, before walking back through the entrance to Hogwarts.

Harry looked down at Ron, a hand outstretched to help him up. "Ron, do you need-"

Ron slapped Harry's hand away. "I can take care of myself!" he shouted, getting to his feet rather shakily.

"Fine, suit yourself, Ronald." Hermione said firmly. "Harry, I'm going to go and see Hagrid and ask him how the hearing with Buckbeak went. Do you want to join me?"

Harry nodded slowly, looking away from Ron. "Y-yeah… I think I'll do that…"

* * *

"That's all for today. Class dismissed." Tim said, the second-year students rising out of their seats and heading out the door. Tim sighed, collecting his things before locking up and doing the same.

It would have been completely quiet had it not been for the echoing of Tim's footsteps down the stairs. That and Hermione Granger's quiet sobbing.

Tim arrived down at the foot of the staircase to see Hermione sitting down on the bottommost step, hands pressed against her eyes as she sobbed quietly to herself, a crystal ball next to her.

"Hey…" Tim cooed. "Are you alright?"

Hermione removed her hands from her red, tear-stricken eyes. "Y-yes, I'm fine." She lied, looking up at her teacher.

"What happened?" Tim asked. "Is Ron still giving you a hard time about Scabbers?"

Hermione sniffed. "Yes, but it's not just that… Hagrid's hippogriff Buckbeak has been sentenced to death, and there's nothing we can do. And just now, Professor Trelawney insulted me. She said that my heart was shriveled and my soul was dry and broken."

"Who's Professor Trelawney?"

Hermione sighed. "The Divinations teacher."

Tim groaned, sitting down beside Hermione. "Look, I just think you need to stop beating yourself up about this." Tim said honestly. "You're the smartest student at Hogwarts, and probably one of the smartest kids I've ever known. But no one can be the best at everything. Well… except _me_. Just because you're not always able to help out in the way you want doesn't make you useless. And who cares about what Professor Trelawney says anyway? You've continuously gotten the highest marks in my class out of any student in any year. It sounds to me like she's just trying to discourage you. If you take what she says to heart, then she's won. And you're a really good student, so… you know, don't listen to her, 'cause you're awesome."

Hermione looked up at Tim, herself filling with lust and affection towards him. "Professor…" she whispered, leaning closer to the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

Hermione's lips had only grazed Tim's before he pulled away. "Whoa, okay…" he said softly. "Listen, Hermi-Miss Granger, I'm sorry, it's obvious I overstepped my mark here. I apologize sincerely if you ever, you know, got the wrong idea, and I really don't want to hurt your feelings."

"What are you saying?"

"I mean, I'm flattered, but I don't think of you that way. And you're a child. It would be inappropriate even if I did." Tim sighed, noticing the saddened expression in Hermione's eyes. "I think it would be best if you, you know, pursued someone closer to your own age."

After that, Tim stayed silent for a long time, hoping that Hermione would understand what he was trying to say.

"You've met someone, haven't you?" Hermione finally said.

"What do you mean?" Tim asked.

"That girl… Y-your boggart, I-I mean… She's your girlfriend then, isn't she?"

Tim shook his head. "No. She isn't… She wasn't…"

"What was she?" Hermione whispered softly.

Although not at all intentional on Hermione's part, her question cut at Tim's heart, mind, body, and soul. Tim's expression darkened, truly wondering if it was something he should talk about.

"My sister." He finally said. "She died a very long time ago. Almost everything that I've ever done in my life since she was killed has been for her." It was almost embarrassing for Tim to admit everything. After all, he was so used to being manly all the time, that sharing his feelings just felt weird, strange and awkward.

"That's why you went off at Ron. Because you know what it's like to lose someone."

Tim turned to Hermione. "You remind me so much of her, and that, more than anything, is why you and I-"

"Wouldn't work." Hermione finished. "I get it. You see me as a little sister."

Tim smiled. "Yeah. That's right." He suddenly sighed, grabbing hold of the crystal ball on the floor. "Would you know what this is from?"

"Um…" Hermione cleared her throat. "Yeah, that's mine. F-from the Divinations classroom, I mean. Um, that was the one that Harry, Ron and I were using, and when Professor Trelawney said all those things to me, I just took it and left."

"Do you think you're gonna go back up there?"

"Well, class finished half an hour ago." Hermione said. "So I don't really have a reason to go up there. I mean, I don't want to."

"Wait, if Divinations class finished half an hour ago, shouldn't you be at your next class?"

Hermione's face went beat-red. "Yes, well, um…" She sighed. "I didn't want to fail this year, and so I asked Professor McGonagall if there was any way I could take extra classes. And she gave me this." Hermione loosened her shirt a little as she reached in and pulled out a pendant which had a little hourglass on it. "This is a Time-Turner, and it's what I've been using to attend more classes than normal. A version of me, the past me, is actually at my next class at the moment. I came back again to do Divinations, and that's when this happened."

Tim beamed at his student. "You've got the power to travel through time, and you use it to study."

"Can you please not tell anyone that I have this? The only people who know are Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and you. If it slips out that I've got this, McGonagall will have me return it, and I need it to finish the rest of the year."

"Don't worry about it, Miss Granger. Your secret is safe with me." Tim smiled, getting up off the staircase. "I'll take this back up to the classroom for you."

"Th-thank you, sir. If you keep walking up the staircase, you'll get to it. It's the last one on the right."

Tim nodded. "No worries. I'll see you at class in an hour."

Hermione nodded back.

Tim ascended the steps with heavy feet, taking pride in the amount of power that each of his steps had, until finally, he had reached the highest point of the staircase, and the entrance to the Divinations classroom was on his right.

The door was open, and so Tim let himself in. "Yo! Anyone around?!" he called out. There was no response. The classroom itself was the most unorthodox that Tim had seen at Hogwarts. A dozen tables were all set up around the room, draped in burgundy cloth, with tea sets sitting on each, along with a crystal ball for each table. There was no room in sight for textbooks or anything of the kind. Even _Snape's_ Potions classroom seemed better designed by comparison.

Tim noticed that one of the holders didn't have a crystal ball in it, and so he assumed that the one he was holding belonged to it. So he walked up to it and gently placed the crystal ball into its holder. For a brief moment, Tim could swear that the crystal ball changed colors before his eyes, going from its usual colorless clear gray, to a shimmering yellow, and then back to normal, in all but a few seconds.

"Hello…?"

Tim turned around, eyes wide at the woman who looked to be very frail and thin, her emerald eyes magnified by the large, thick pair of glasses she wore. Her frizzled hair and tattered clothes made her look, to Tim, as though she had been recently released from some sort of institution.

Tim cleared his throat, straightening himself up. "Hi. Look, sorry to bother you. I just returned the crystal ball that Miss Granger had."

"Ah, well thank you. I don't know what happened with her. I was just telling her what I saw and she stormed out of the class with it." The woman stopped, looking Tim over. "I'm sorry, I don't think I've ever seen you before." She said.

"I could say the same." Tim smiled, reaching his hand out. "Tim Ihansha. I teach Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Sybill Trelawney, Divinations." The woman replied, accepting Tim's handshake. "Pleasure to meet you."

Tim's expression grew stern as he looked down at the woman's hand. "You're a Muggle, aren't you?" he asked, after having regained eye contact with her.

"Wh-what?! N-no! I'm a witch! A-and-"

"Come on, don't deny it." Tim said. "In a school of witches and wizards, elves and trolls, I know a Muggle when I see one."

"I-I assure you, s-sir, I have no idea what you're talking about." Trelawney said firmly. "I'm related to the great Cassandra Trelawney, who was one of the greatest Seers of her generation. It is in fact because of her that I too possess the Inner Eye!" she shouted dramatically.

"Inner Eye?" Tim asked.

Trelawney nodded. "You might know it as Sight. It allows me to predict the future."

"That so…?" Tim muttered, folding his arms. "Would you be able to see into the future now then?"

Trelawney shook her head. "Unfortunately, I cannot. It is impossible for me to use my Inner Eye to see upon command." Trelawney then took both of Tim's hands into her own. "But if you'd like, I'd be happy to read your palms, or perhaps give you a tea-reading."

"No thanks. I'm not really a tea person." Tim said, taking his hands away. "Thanks anyway though. I think I'll just leave."

"A-alright, well, it was nice meeting you." Trelawney smiled.

Tim turned, heading back the way he came, moving out the door, convinced now more than ever that the Divinations Professor was a Muggle.


	12. Dumbledore's Shenanigans

A gloomy, stygian dawn had set itself on Hogwarts, Tim yet again being called to Dumbledore's office in the early hours of the morning. Tim thought that perhaps Dumbledore was going to speak to him about assaulting Ron, or how Hermione had kissed him, but instead, it was a rather unusual request, to say the least.

"I was wondering if you'd like to come down to Hagrid's Hut with me tonight."

"Are you asking me out on a date?" Tim asked.

"No." Dumbledore said seriously, but then added "You're not my type. No, it's just because Buckbeak is being executed, and I thought that Hagrid might need some support. Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, is also coming down, and I thought it might be a good time to introduce yourself to him."

"I'd be more than happy to introduce myself to Colonel Fudge, Dumblebro, but Hagrid and I don't really get along very well. Now, that might be because my incredible amount of manliness frightens him, which I understand. I mean, I _am_ awesome, but I just don't think that I'd make the situation between the two of us any better."

"Please, Tim." Dumbledore seemed to almost beg. "Hagrid had Fluffy sent over to Azkaban two years ago to help with security, his boarhound Fang is nearing the end of its life, his Acromantula Aragog died when most of the Forbidden Forest was burned down. Buckbeak is really the only thing he has left."

Tim sighed. "Alright, Dumblebro, alright. If you think it's what Hagrid would want."

"There is one thing though, Tim."

"Oh? What's that?"

"When we meet the Minister, can you _please_ wear a shirt?"

Tim looked down, running his hands along his bare chest, eyes catching on his scar for a moment. Tim sighed.

* * *

It was almost half past seven, and Tim had finished teaching for the day. As Dumbledore requested, and even though part of it killed him inside, Tim did in fact wear a shirt whilst the two of them waited outside the castle courtyard for Cornelius Fudge to arrive.

A flock of crows were seen in the murky black sky, flying overhead in the direction to Hagrid's Hut, obviously eager to watch the apparent violence that was to come. From afar, Tim saw a carriage being pulled by a mighty winged beast, a Thestral, with two men, of course, sitting in the carriage.

The Thestral stopped suddenly, the carriage jerking just a little as Dumbledore walked over to greet the Minister, Tim following behind. "Minister Fudge! How great it is to see you again!" Dumbledore welcomed.

Fudge smiled keenly. "Thank you, Albus. Unfortunately, I just wish it could have been under better circumstances, but Ministry business _is_ Ministry business."

"I understand." Dumbledore nodded. "Uh-I'd like for you to meet Professor Tim Ihansha, our newest Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. This year will be his third year teaching with us."

"Ah!" Fudge beamed. "A pleasure to finally meet you, Tim. Albus has told me so much about you. You're much more strapping than he described." Fudge extended a hand to Tim, which he took. "Nice and strong handshake too…"

"You should see me without a shirt." Tim said.

Fudge opened his mouth slightly, brow furrowed as he looked Tim over once again. "Yes… Well, let me introduce you to the Committee's appointed executioner, Walden Macnair."

The executioner stepped out of the carriage, an axe gripped tightly in his hands, his face obscured by a black mask. He was a tall man, not nearly as tall as Tim, but still quite tall. His eyes, the only noticeable feature, seemed dead and lifeless.

"Committee?" Tim asked.

"The Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures." Dumbledore elaborated. "The Ministry of Magic has several different committees that each oversea a particular set of issues."

"Ah, that makes sense."

"Now, shall we head down to Hagrid's Hut?" Fudge asked. "I presume that's where the condemned, Buckbeak, should be."

"I was thinking perhaps I could give you a tour of the grounds first." Dumbledore smiled. "After all, just because you're here on Ministry business doesn't mean you shouldn't be able to take some time to look around. And many things have changed since you were last here."

"I-"

"Please, Minister, we have plenty of time before Buckbeak is due to be executed. Why don't I just show you around the school?"

Fudge narrowed his eyes, as if trying to read Dumbledore's mind. "I think it would be best if we went ahead with the execution, _as_ _appointed_."

"Not a problem, Minister. We'll take the long way to Hagrid's Hut then. If you'd like to follow me…"

"Well, I-" Fudge was left speechless as Dumbledore began walking along the gravel-strewn path. Instead of taking a left at the fork in the path, thereby allowing them to get to Hagrid's Hut within five minutes at the most, Dumbledore kept walking straight ahead in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. "The Forbidden Forest, Albus?" Fudge asked.

"Why yes, of course. We had a fire last year, and I want to show you some of the trees that have started to grow in that time. Don't worry, we won't be going in too far." Dumbledore assured him. The four of them walked past a Well, an empty pot sitting on the stonework. "Try and avoid the Well if you can. The Cornish Pixies can get _very_ territorial."

Tim increased his pace so that he was up the front with Dumbledore. "What are you doing?"

"It's just a leisurely stroll, Professor." Dumbledore smiled. Tim sighed, retreating a little, his eyes inadvertently meeting Macnair's. There was just something about him that put Tim on edge, which, in and of itself, wasn't an easy thing to do. Nevertheless, Tim put it out of his mind for the moment, as the four of them began their walk through the Forbidden Forest.

* * *

"Right, here we are!" Dumbledore smiled, knocking gently on the door to Hagrid's Hut, Tim, Fudge, and Macnair behind him.

"Albus, with all due respect, I really don't see what the point of that stroll was." Fudge stated.

"You mean you didn't enjoy our little walk through the forest?"

"It's taken half an hour to get here!"

" _Has_ it?" Dumbledore asked softly. "Oh well. We're here now."

Shuffling was heard from inside Hagrid's Hut, the door opening a few moments later. "Hello, Minister, Dumbledore…" Hagrid greeted, his voice low. Tim could tell he was upset.

"Good evening, Hagrid. Terribly sorry we're late." Fudge smiled.

"Well, yes, I, uh… started to think you weren't comin'. Anyway, make your way through, and help yourself to a cup o' tea if you want." Hagrid gestured for the four of them to enter, though they found it a little difficult with Hagrid standing midway through the doorframe. Eventually though, they all got in, Tim, Fudge and Dumbledore sitting down in rather uncomfortable chairs, Macnair preferring to stand and brandish his axe.

"No, Hagrid. I think it would be best if we were to just move right along and do what needs to be done. After all, this should-"

"I'd quite like a cup of tea, actually." Dumbledore spoke up, turning to Tim who sat on one side of him. "Professor, would you like a cup of tea?"

"Uh… no thanks. I'm not really a tea person…" Tim muttered.

"I think we should just get down to business." Fudge said, retrieving some sort of document and placing it on the table for Hagrid's reading discretion. "This is the official Notice of Execution." Fudge got up out of his seat and walked around to Hagrid's side to point out the details of the document. "It is the decision of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures that the Hippogriff, Buckbeak, hereafter referred to as 'the condemned', be executed by way of beheading, on the sixth of June, nineteen ninety-four, by appointed executioner, Walden Macnair." Fudge looked over at Hagrid, placing his finger down on the paper. "Hagrid, you sign here."

Tears started to fall from Hagrid's face, the half-giant mumbling incoherently to himself. Dumbledore got to his feet and placed an arm around his shoulder. "There, there, Hagrid." Dumbledore comforted. "It'll be alright."

"B-Buckbeak didn't mean no harm!" Hagrid blurted.

Both Tim and Dumbledore could see the turmoil Hagrid was facing, and Dumbledore attempted to speak up and perhaps reason with Fudge. "I really do think that-"

"This is a decision backed not only by the Committee, but by the Ministry as well!" Fudge roared. "Nothing that you say or do will persuade me to go against the sentence that has been passed!"

"Look, with all due respect, Colonel Fudge, I heard from a couple of students a while ago, that Buckbeak was provoked into attacking by another student." Tim said.

"That so?"

"Minister, do you really want to _behead_ a _Hippogriff_?" Dumbledore added.

Fudge turned away. "No, I do not. But this is _not_ about what _I_ want, this is about the _Committee_ , and this is about the _Ministry_! I wouldn't be a very good Minister if I let _my_ personal feelings get in the way of matters that need to be carried out! Hagrid! Sign! Your full name please! Now!" Fudge ordered. Hagrid started shaking, but hastily signed his name at the bottom of the document. "Alright," he sighed. "Now, let's go outside and-"

"Uh, Minister," Dumbledore interrupted. "I really think I should sign as well."

"Yes, yes, alright. Very well. Sign the document, if you must. Your full name please."

"Are you sure? It's a very long name, Minister."

"Just sign it, please, Albus." Fudge groaned. Tim's eyes widened as he watched Dumbledore sign his name as 'Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore'.

" _Damn_ , that _is_ a long name…" Tim muttered.

"Alright, now, if we could please head outside, so we can carry out the execution." Fudge spoke quietly, himself teetering on the edge of a possible mental breakdown.

"Yes, of course, Minister." Dumbledore said, the four of them walking out of Hagrid's Hut, the poor half-giant sobbing uncontrollably all the while from behind them. Tim looked around in confusion, along with Fudge and Macnair. He had seen Buckbeak resting in the pumpkin patch just outside Hagrid's Hut when they arrived, but now he was gone.

"Where is he?" Fudge asked. "I saw the beast, when we arrived, not even a few minutes ago!"

"How extraordinary!" Dumbledore apparently marveled.

Fudge turned back to Dumbledore. "Oh, come now, Albus! Somebody's obviously released him!" Fudge's gaze in turn focused squarely on Hagrid. "Hagrid?"

"I, uh-"

"Surely you're not suggesting, Minister, that Hagrid had anything to do with Buckbeak's disappearance. After all, he's been with us the whole time."

"Then we'll search the grounds!" Fudge declared. "Macnair, come along, we're going to find the beast ourselves."

"Do as you must, Minister." Dumbledore said calmly. "In the meantime, Hagrid, if it's alright with you, I'd like a large brandy, or perhaps a butterbeer."

"No trouble at all, Dumbledore." Hagrid said quietly, wiping away his tears.

Dumbledore turned to Macnair. "Oh, and, uh… your services are no longer required, executioner. I apologize for having you come out here for nothing." Dumbledore ushered from Tim to follow him back inside Hagrid's Hut. "Come along, Tim. You must be even just a little bit thirsty after all that walking…"

* * *

It was later explained to Tim that almost the entirety of the evening with Fudge and Buckbeak's escape had been orchestrated by Dumbledore, with help from Harry, Ron and Hermione. And although Harry, Ron and Hermione had been able to use Hermione's Time-Turner to go back and rescue Buckbeak before he could be executed, they still had to worry about their final exams. Fortunately for them, after realizing what they had done, Tim was rather lenient with their Defense Against the Dark Arts exam.

He didn't tell them, but basically he gave them full marks regardless of what they wrote for the theory portion, although Hermione was really the only one that deserved the marks she got. Tim wasn't able to do the same for their practical exam though, and as a result, Ron only got a passing grade, whereas Harry and Hermione both got high marks.

"I still don't get why you couldn't have told me…" Tim muttered, seated next to Dumbledore in the Great Hall. It was the last day of the school year.

"Believe me when I tell you that it was hard for me _not_ to." Dumbledore sighed. "But if I had, there might have been consequences even outside of _my_ control. Interfering with time is not something that can be taken lightly."

"Well, now that you say that, there's actually something I wanted to ask you about the Time-Turners."

"Yes?"

"Miss Granger used it, with your blessing, to go and stop Buckbeak from getting killed. Would… hypothetically, would it be possible to use it to… stop others from dying as well…"

"You mean your sister, don't you?" Dumbledore spoke softly. Tim nodded. "Possible, yes. Ideal, no. You see, alive or dead, Buckbeak has little bearing on the world, and so saving Buckbeak, who was really just an innocent life, was the right thing to do." Dumbledore looked Tim over, noticing the darkened expression on his face. "There have been others, Tim. Others who thought perhaps if they went back in time, they could try and stop Tom Riddle from becoming Voldemort. But I'm afraid that that was always destined to happen, just as your sister was destined to die by his hand. There have been many attempts to try and change the past, but some things just cannot be changed. All we can shape is the future. And that's why we need you here, now more than ever." Dumbledore lowered his voice into a whisper. "I trust that you won't be leaving us any time soon. After all, I don't need to tell you that you're the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've had in a long time."

Tim smiled. "I knew that already." He chuckled. "Of course I'll stay, at least until I've killed Voldemort."

Dumbledore may or may not have been right about the past being unchangeable, but Tim knew that he would have a hand in shaping the future. And Tim swore to shape the future by killing Voldemort if it was the last thing he did.

* * *

The sun was beginning to set at Hogwarts, as Harry, Ron and Hermione walked through the courtyard and into the atrium, where Tim, Dumbledore and McGonagall stood waiting for them.

"Ah! Glad to see that you three _survived_ your final exams." Dumbledore smiled, putting particular emphasis on 'survived'.

"Yes!" Hermione chirped. "They were _great_ fun!" she said honestly.

"Speak for yourself…" Ron grumbled. " _I'll_ be having nightmares for _months_!"

McGonagall stepped closer to the three students. "Well then," she began. "Let's see whether you've completed your third-year graduation requirements… Dumbledore?"

A scroll materialized in Dumbledore's hands as the elderly wizard looked over it carefully. "Yes… Mister Potter, Mister Weasley, and Miss Granger have all completed their third-year requirements…"

The three students cheered. "Absolutely splendid work." McGonagall praised.

"Yeah," Tim spoke up. "Really guys… great work…" he smiled.

"You should all be very proud of yourselves." Dumbledore said calmly. "What you did for Buckbeak was truly courageous."

"We couldn't have done it without you, Professor." Hermione said back.

"Now… do _try_ and behave yourselves during the summer holidays…" McGonagall sighed. Ron nodded, but Harry and Hermione both gave no reaction. They knew, after all, that she was really only talking to Ron in that moment.

Harry's eyes moved to meet Tim's, the two exchanging brief smiles, before Harry, along with Ron and Hermione, left to go and catch the Hogwarts Express to return to King's Cross Station.


	13. A Plot Unearthed

The eyes of Barty Crouch Jr. flickered as he slowly regained consciousness.

"You thought you could get the drop on me, did you?"

Crouch's eyes began to focus, and he became more aware of his surroundings. Unfortunately for him, his surroundings were less than favorable.

"Hey!" Tim shouted, this time roughly grasping Crouch's head in his right hand. "I asked you a question!" He said sternly. Crouch snarled, and attempted to bite Tim's hand. Tim quickly brought his right hand away before punching Crouch with his left. If Tim hadn't been careful, he could've killed him right there, but he knew he needed to hold back. After all, he needed answers as to why this person had sneaked into Tim's room late at night and tried to cut off some of his hair.

Crouch's body snapped back against its restraints, his body bound to a wooden chair by rope, and his wand out of reach. Crouch wanted to reach up and rub the area where Tim had struck him, but with his arms kept behind him, all he could do was wiggle his torso slightly.

"What the Hell were you doing trying to get some of my hair?"

"You shouldn't have woken…!" Crouch hissed. "You need to go away…! _I_ need to bring him back…!"

"Stop talking nonsense!" Tim snapped, roughly grabbing Crouch by his tattered clothing. "Who sent you?!"

The madness in Crouch's eyes left almost immediately, a somber seriousness taking its place. "You really don't know?" he asked softly.

"Seriously, if you don't start answering me _right_ _now_ , I'm gonna make you wish you were never born!" Tim yelled. "Now _who_ _sent_ _you_?!"

"It wouldn't matter if I told you… You couldn't stop it… Even if I died right here…"

With a mighty roar, Tim brought his right hand down on Crouch, not only breaking the chair, but also almost every bone in Crouch's body. "I told you not to screw with me…" Tim whispered, looking down at the crumpled heap of a man.

Crouch's lips trembled, the young man feeling his life slip away from him. "V-Voldemort…" he finally choked out. Tim's eyes widened.

"Voldemort? _Voldemort_ sent you?! What's he planning?!" Tim yelled.

Crouch took a heavy breath, using what little strength he had left to convey one final message. One that he'd hoped would strike fear into Tim's heart. "The Triwizard Tournament…! The Dark Lord will rise again, and cast this world into an eternal darkness… And Harry Potter's life will end…! You can't stop it… But I'd _love_ to see you try…"

The light in Tim's eyes dimmed. "Too bad you won't get that chance…" Tim whispered, raising his right foot and pressing the heel against Crouch's head, before bringing it down and crushing his skull, silencing the young man forever.

* * *

"Dumblebro!" Tim shouted, barging into Dumbledore's office.

"Tim, I-"

"Shut up! This is important!" Tim barked. "Voldemort's coming back!"

Dumbledore didn't respond right away, himself in staunch disbelief. "What?!"

"I was just attacked by some guy in my room. He tried to cut off some of my hair, but I knocked him out. When he woke up, I asked what he was doing and who sent him. He didn't answer, so I roughed him up a little, and then he told me that Voldemort's coming back, and that it's got something to do with some tournament with three wizards, and… And that Harry was going to die!" Tim sighed, sensing Dumbledore's uneasiness at his explanation.

"The Triwizard Tournament…" Dumbledore muttered, before his eyes focused on Tim. "This man who attacked you, what have you done with him?"

"I killed him." Tim stated. " _Obviously_." Tim then noticed a strange look on Dumbledore's face. "What exactly _is_ the Triwizard Tournament?" he asked.

"The Triwizard Tournament is a contest held between Hogwarts and two other schools in Europe. It's a very dangerous competition that pits the best students from all three schools against each other, with only one usually coming out alive."

"That sounds awesome…" Tim mumbled.

"It's not. I can't tell you how many students Hogwarts has lost over the years from the tournament alone." Dumbledore said sternly, before turning away and looking at the window behind him. "And you say that Harry is going to die?"

"That's what I was told."

Dumbledore closed his eyes, and after a few minutes of silence, turned back to Tim. "Do not speak of this with anyone else." He said suddenly. "I fear that Harry may, whether he likes it or not, be drawn to compete in this year's tournament. If Voldemort _is_ to return, and _if_ Harry is to compete, then he must win the tournament at all costs."

"You want to play right into his hands?" Tim asked incredulously.

"It's our best hope to draw Voldemort out into the open. Once he's revived, if he's revived, then-"

"Then I'll kill him." Tim interrupted, before shaking his head. "Look, I don't know how good these other schools are, but having Harry go out there and face Voldemort is just asking for trouble. I want to partake in the tournament too."

"What?"

"To keep an eye on Harry. Make sure he survives until the end." He said simply.

"Very well." Dumbledore nodded. "But, Tim. I can assure you, the challenges _won't_ be easy."

"I'd hate it if they were. I've been waiting for a challenge, after all. And there's no way I'm gonna let one slip through my fingers, especially a challenge that's almost falling into my lap. Count me in." Tim smiled, feeling his blood start to boil with anticipation as his Warrior Spirit roared inside of him.

* * *

Out of all the rooms that Tim had been in, the Great Hall seemed to be the only one that hadn't changed at all since he arrived at Hogwarts three years ago. The Sorting Ceremony and Start-of-Term Feast had both moved along at a rather quick pace, but that didn't stop Tim, or many of the other students, from being bored out of their skulls. The Sorting Hat didn't even have a song to sing, and Tim neglected eating dessert, because there was no way in Hell he was going to eat Spotted Dick.

"Well," Dumbledore's voice called from his seat, the elderly wizard standing up to address the students of Hogwarts. "Now that we're all well fed, I'd like very much for all of you to head for your Common Rooms. But before that, there was something before that I forgot to mention." He said. Tim, of course, knew what was coming, but none of the students did, and so an uneasy chatter broke out amongst all the tables, before Dumbledore raised his hands up to silence everyone. "There will be no Inter-House Quidditch Cup this year-"

Dumbledore was cut off as a roar of disapproval sounded from almost all of the Hogwarts students. All students present at the feast, especially Harry, Ron and Hermione, were understandably irritated and perturbed, with Gryffindor being the most vocal, as they had won the House Cup for the previous three years. In spite of this, all it took was for Dumbledore to raise his hands again, and the chatter died down.

The wizard cleared his throat. "The reason for this," he began. "Is because Hogwarts has been chosen this year, to host the Triwizard Tournament. For those students who know all about the tournament and what it entails, feel free to let your minds wander as I give a very brief explanation. For those that don't know, the Triwizard Tournament is a contest between ourselves here at Hogwarts, and two other wizarding schools in Europe – Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, and Durmstrang Institute. Each school selects one champion, and that champion will compete against the others in three different challenges. Now, we'll get into the actual selection of the champions later, but for now, I invite you all in welcoming our guests – Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, and the proud sons of the Durmstrang Institute."

Every student in the Great Hall turned as the wooden doors leading in creaked and opened. A dozen or so young girls walked in very theatrically, each of them donning what was presumably their school uniform – a light blue silk dress and half-cape with matching hat, and all moaning in an unnecessarily seductive manner. All the male students found themselves quickly getting flustered, Ron especially, who, along with Seamus, eyed the ass of one of the students as she walked by the Gryffindor table.

Behind the girls followed a rather tall woman. Seriously, she was about a head taller than Hagrid and several feet taller than Tim. The woman approached Dumbledore with a sly smile on her face, offering her hand to him, which Dumbledore kissed softly before she went to sit down. Not two seconds after that did the next group of students walk in, all of which were male and carrying wooden staffs, which they banged along the ground as they walked in an obviously choreographed manner. The students all looked quite stocky and well-built, and Tim was hopeful that the muscles most of the students possessed weren't just for show.

The teacher in white behind them, a staunch contrast to the brown that the students had been wearing, walked over to Dumbledore and greeted him in a somewhat jovial manner, before sitting down next to Tim. "Evening, I'm Igor Karkaroff." He introduced, his words drenched in a thick foreign accent.

"I'm Professor Ihansha." Tim greeted, but otherwise paid him no mind.

With the foreign students and teachers having arrived and made comfortable, Dumbledore once again began to speak. Although he found it difficult to secure the attention of the male Hogwarts students, most of which who stared lustfully at the Beauxbatons girls. "Now, I understand that you students might have a few questions in regards to the Triwizard Tournament. For example, what are these three challenges that I mentioned briefly earlier? Well, I cannot tell you that. After all, the mark of a great wizard or witch is the ability to face the unknown. However, I _can_ tell you what the prize is for winning: One thousand Galleons, a trophy, and eternal glory!"

The eyes of several Hogwarts students lit up at the prospect of winning a thousand Galleons, thoughts of the Beauxbatons women leaving their minds as they turned their attention to focus entirely on Dumbledore, eager to hear more.

"To explain things further, I have invited the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, Mister Bartemius Crouch Sr." Dumbledore smiled. Tim's eyes followed as a man, who Tim hadn't even seen in the room before, stepped out to address the students of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang.

"Good evening, all of you. It really is a pleasure for me to say that after all these years, the Triwizard Tournament has made a return. However, the Ministry of Magic has decided that no student under the age of seventeen, as of the start of this month, will be allowed to submit themselves to compete in the Triwizard Tournament."

The words of Bartemius Crouch Sr. were not met with a positive reaction at all. Many of the Hogwarts students (mostly belonging to Slytherin and Gryffindor) were completely outraged, especially Ron's older brothers Fred and George, who were to turn seventeen in April. This however, had absolutely no effect on either the students of Beauxbatons or Durmstrang, as the students present at Hogwarts from both schools were of competing age. Tim however sat back in his seat, wondering how Harry was going to be chosen for the tournament since he was only fourteen. Tim was sure that Dumbledore was thinking the same thing.

Bartemius Crouch Sr. stood awkwardly as he faced the cries of displeasure from Hogwarts students. Dumbledore sighed, simply raising his hands once more, the students quietening down soon after, though the look of disdain on each of the students' faces remained.

"Given that the three challenges in the Triwizard Tournament will be incredibly difficult, the Ministry of Magic, along with the staff here at Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, feels that younger students will be unable to cope with them. So, that said, let's move on to how the selection for champion will take place." Dumbledore retrieved his wand from his robe, pointing it at the empty pedestal. In a shimmer of gold, a wooden cup appeared, and as Dumbledore put his wand away, a blue fire spilled from the cup, crackling spectacularly. "This is the Goblet of Fire, our impartial judge, if you will." Dumbledore explained, the students and faculty keeping their eyes squarely on it. "Anyone wishing to compete will submit their name to the Goblet of Fire, which will then decide who the three champions of each school will be. I ask that you please do not take the submission of yourself lightly, for if you are chosen, there will be no turning back." Dumbledore drew a long heavy breath. "As of this moment, the Triwizard Tournament has begun…"


	14. The Quadwizard-Monomuggle Tournament

It was a dark and stormy evening when the doors of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom flung open as Tim stepped inside, the students already having made it to their seats. "Evening, all. This is Defense Against the Dark Arts for fourth-year students. Now, the fourth year is where the bullshit stops, so we're gonna get right into it tonight. I'll be teaching you the Stunning Spell, Stupefy. It's basically like Flipendo, but it's red, and better." Tim's eyes of fire zoned in on Hermione. "Miss Granger, to the front. We're gonna have you start us off." As Hermione got up out of her seat, Tim saw Neville opening his textbook. "Put that away!" Tim ordered. "No more theory crap!" Tim walked over, grabbed Neville's textbook and threw it against the wall, before turning back to Hermione. "Now, Miss Granger, let's see if you can get this right on your first attempt."

Tim jumped high into the air, ripping down two cages that hung from the ceiling. The cages fell, rattling and opening as the creatures inside made their escape. "Dugbogs!" Hermione cried.

"Very good, Miss Granger. You know what these creatures are, let's see you fight them!" Tim shouted. Both the Dugbogs looked at Hermione with their beady little eyes as they slowly advanced on her, while Hermione stood almost stunned watching them.

Little did Tim know that the reason for Hermione's shock was because she had previously been attacked by Dugbogs at the Quidditch World Cup that had taken place earlier that year. Having to use Stupefy as well, which had also been used by the Ministry of Magic to apprehend Harry at the event, just seemed to make her even more anxious. Even so, Hermione didn't back down, whipping out her wand and pointing it at one of the Dugbogs, the incantation escaping her lips. " _Stupefy_!" she shouted, a jet of scarlet light bursting forth and striking the Dugbog, not only blowing it back into the wall behind Tim, but also knocking it unconscious. She then did the same with the other Dugbog, causing a smile to appear on Tim's face.

"Fantastic work, Miss Granger. Ten House Points to Gryffindor!" he applauded. Hermione sighed from the emotional exhaustion as Tim turned his gaze on Harry. "Harry, I hope you were paying attention." Tim said, and then mentally adding that he was going to need it.

* * *

Students from Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang all ran across the courtyard as it poured with rain. Not only were the students eager to get inside and out of the rain, they also wanted to submit themselves for the Triwizard Tournament. It seemed that Dumbledore's prior warning in regards to the intensity of the challenges fell on deaf ears for most of the students. Not only that, but some of the younger students were trying to think of ways to get their name into the Goblet of Fire.

Fred and George Weasley, along with Lee Jordan, had come up with the idea to use an Ageing Potion to make themselves all two years older as a way of trying to bypass the age restriction, an Age Line which circled the Goblet of Fire, put in place by Dumbledore to prevent any younger students from crossing the threshold and thereby being able to put their name into the cup. Unfortunately for the twins, their Ageing Potion was a failure, as although they were able to cross the Age Line and put both their names into the Goblet of Fire, they found themselves quickly aging several decades in the span of seconds and that their submissions for the tournament had been rejected, the flames spewing from the Goblet of Fire turning a bright gold.

Tim stood at the back of the room, watching as more students approached, crossing the Age Line and putting their names into the Goblet of Fire. Tim wondered how Harry was supposed to compete if he couldn't get past the Age Line.

"Ingenious, isn't it?" a voice sounded. Tim turned to see Dumbledore smiling at him.

"Well, yeah, but how's Harry supposed to… you know?"

"If it's meant to happen, it will happen." Dumbledore said simply. "Besides, there's nothing stopping an older student from submitting the name of a younger student."

"That seems like a pretty flawed system." Tim noted. "What if one of the older students put in the name of one of the younger students to bully them? What if Cassius Warrington put Luna Lovegood's name in? What would happen then?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Tim, if it's meant to happen, it will happen." He repeated, his eyes wandering to the Goblet of Fire. "Now…" he whispered. "It's time…" Dumbledore walked out as the last Hogwarts student had put their name into the cup, once again raising his hands for attention, before being joined by Igor Karkaroff and Olympe Maxime, the Headmistress of Beauxbatons. "Only one champion can win the Triwizard Tournament, and that champion must survive three very dangerous tasks." He said, grazing his hand along the Goblet of Fire. "Once again, if chosen, you stand alone. There is no turning back, and you cannot surrender your place in the tournament. Now, without further ado, let's begin the selection!" The Goblet of Fire roared to life, its flames turning from bright blue, to gold, to green, and then finally red, where a piece of parchment erupted from the cup before falling into Dumbledore's hands. "The first champion is: Fleur Delacour – Beauxbatons Academy!"

The Beauxbatons students, who were sitting with the Ravenclaw students shouted out in applause, as a rather attractive blonde (although _all_ the Beauxbatons students were attractive) got up from her seat and walked over to the three administrators, wherein Maxime gave her complete congratulations, and Dumbledore gave the instruction for her to head into the next room.

The Goblet of Fire started up again, changing the colors of its flames as another piece of parchment fell into Dumbledore's hands. "The second champion is: Viktor Krum – Durmstrang Institute!" Dumbledore yelled. The Durmstrang students had been sitting with the Slytherin students, and all broke out into boisterous approval as a young man with plenty of facial hair and muscles, while admittedly not as big as Tim's, but still rather impressive, got up from his seat, walking over to Dumbledore as Karkaroff roared encouragement to him, before Dumbledore sent him into the side chamber as he had done with Fleur. The Goblet of Fire, again, crackled with energy as the third parchment piece fell into Dumbledore's hand. "The third champion is: Cedric Diggory – Hogwarts!"

Almost the entirety of the Hogwarts students leapt up to applaud the lone Hufflepuff, a rather tall but plain-looking sixth-year, who got to his feet, looking as though he rather enjoyed the pats on the back and encouragement he was getting from passersby. As the other two champions had done, Cedric walked over to Dumbledore, who shook his hand and gave him a firm congratulation. Tim's eyes quickly moved from Cedric to Harry, the latter of which clapping heartily as the Hufflepuff had walked by.

Tim's brow furrowed as the roar of cheers and applause swept out across the room, as by all appearances, the Champions Ceremony was over, and Harry Potter had not been chosen. Tim's eyes met Dumbledore's, but before Dumbledore could say or do anything, the Goblet of Fire unleashed an incredible burst of heat as one more name came floating down on parchment and landing in Dumbledore's hand. Everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore in silence, until finally, Dumbledore spoke. "…Harry Potter…" Dumbledore's voice was one of shock, mostly because he assumed that Harry would have been selected _instead_ of Cedric, as opposed to being the apparent 'fourth champion'. Tim, along with everyone else in the room, turned to look at Harry, who seemed confused by the events that had unfolded. Harry knew, of course, that he didn't put his name into the Goblet of Fire, and there was a little part of Harry that thought he might have been imagining things. "Harry Potter!" Dumbledore called once more. "Harry, will you come up here please?" he urged.

Harry shook his head feverishly, not at all liking being on the receiving end of a long joint gaze from all the students from Durmstrang, Beauxbatons and Hogwarts. After being urged to by Hermione, Harry shakily got to his feet, slowly walking over to Dumbledore for what felt like an eternity. "Professor, I-" Harry attempted to explain that he had no idea why his name had gone into the Goblet of Fire, and that there had to be some sort of mistake, but Dumbledore cut him off.

"Just make your way through the door, Harry." He said, looking over at Tim. "Professor Ihansha, will you come with me?"

"Yes… of course…" Tim nodded, walking over from the back of the room and over to the Goblet of Fire, where Dumbledore and the other administrators looked on in a mix of anger and confusion.

"Severus, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked, looking at them for a brief moment, each giving a nod of compliance as they walked over and joined Tim. "Karkaroff, Maxime, if you please." Dumbledore smiled, directing Tim and the rest of the staff to head into the side room that Harry had just walked into.

The room was one that Tim had never seen before. A fire burned brightly, though not as intense as the flames produced by the Goblet of Fire, or even, to be fair, by the fire inside Tim's soul. There was nice furniture in the room, plenty of stuff that, Tim thought, he could take for _his_ room later on. Of course, now was not the time. Snape rushed forward grabbing Harry's shoulder's forcefully and pushing him back against the wall, with Cedric, Fleur and Viktor watching in surprise and confusion.

"Potter!" Snape roared. "What have you _done_?!"

"Calm down, Severus." Dumbledore said softly. Snape let his hands fall from Harry's shoulders, but kept glaring at the boy.

"This is an outrage!" Maxime yelled, her French accent reasonably strong. "Hogwarts cannot 'ave _two_ champions!"

"Maxime is right!" Karkaroff agreed.

"Potter, you knew what the rules were and you broke them!" Snape said angrily. "Of course, I'm not _really_ surprised. After all, it's _clear_ you take after your father, even in spite of the fact that you never truly knew him."

"Severus, that's enough!" Dumbledore shouted, walking over to Harry and placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "It doesn't matter that Harry was chosen-"

"Like _Hell_ it doesn't!" Karkaroff piped up.

"The fact of the matter is," Dumbledore spoke up again. "He was, whether we all like it or not."

Snape's eyes narrowed, catching Dumbledore's soft, calm tone, and watching him glance at Tim. "Do you know something about this?!" He yelled at Dumbledore.

"Shut up, rat-faced twat!" Tim interrupted. "Besides, _I'll_ be in the tournament too, to keep an eye on things."

For a moment, the argument about Harry ceased, and everyone's attentions moved to Tim, including that of the three, err… _four_ , Triwizard Champions.

"What the Hell?! Since when?!" Karkaroff shouted.

"Mind your own business, Kakarot!" Tim snapped.

"That's enough, all of you!" Dumbledore shouted, raising his hands as if to break apart the argument of the three men. "It seems to me that we have no choice. What's happened has happened, and it can't be changed. All we can do is prepare the participants as best we can for the tournament, and hope for the best."

"Dumbledore is right." The entire room turned to see a man slowly walk down the stairs leading into the room. Bartemius Crouch Sr. "Once a name is placed into the Goblet of Fire, it creates a binding contract between the Goblet, and the one whose name is on the parchment. Mister Potter has no choice. As of tonight, he is a Triwizard Champion, along with Mister Diggory, Mister Krum, and Miss Delacour. That is all."

"And what of Professor Ihansha?" Karkaroff questioned. "Just moments ago, he _too_ , claimed that he was participating in the Triwizard Tournament. Surely you're not going to allow _him_ to enter as well?"

"No, of course not! That's ridiculous!" Bartemius declared. "A teacher can't compete in the tournament!"

"…I think it's best if you let Tim do what he wants." Dumbledore suggested.

Bartemius turned to Dumbledore, and then back to Tim, who met him with a rather grimacing and intimidating stare, which totally defeated all the resolve he had against allowing Tim to compete in the competition. "Very well… If that's what you want…" he said softly.

"This is absolutely _ludicrous_!" Karkaroff yelled, only to get knocked to the ground by Tim. Viktor hesitated to draw out his wand to protect his teacher, Tim turning to him, that same look of defiance on his face.

"Stand down, boy." Tim warned. "I have no problem throwing Kakarot here into the fireplace."

Viktor froze in place as Tim allowed Karkaroff to live, slowly getting up and brushing himself down. Karkaroff beckoned to Viktor, before the two of them left the room together in a silent outrage. Maxime put one of her arms around Fleur's shoulder and directed her out of the room as well. Snape, McGonagall, Bartemius, and Dumbledore all turned to Tim, Harry, and Cedric. "Well, Ihansha, Potter, Diggory…" Bartemius began. "Since we now have _five_ champions instead of the usual _three_ , amendments will need to be made to the challenges, but, moreover, I expect that you will all compete as separate entries, so no assisting each other. You've already got a much larger advantage over the other two schools by having three times as many entrants, so I want to keep this as fair as possible, okay?"

"That's fine." Cedric said. Harry nodded quickly, and so did Tim, but unlike the former, Tim had every intention of helping Harry. Tim glanced over at Harry, watching sweat form on his forehead.

"Alright!" Dumbledore clasped his hands together. "Now that that's sorted, Harry, Cedric, why don't you two return to your Common Rooms? I'm sure that both Gryffindor and Hufflepuff will be interested to hear what's going on."

Harry looked over at Cedric out of the corner of his eyes, the Hufflepuff nodding slowly. "Yes, of course, Professor." Cedric smiled, turning around and heading up the steps out of the room, Harry doing the same after a moment of hesitance.

"Honestly, what are you even hoping to gain by competing in the Triwizard Tournament?" Snape asked. "You think you're going to get glory by defeating a bunch of children?"

"Snoopy, I'm _just_ after a challenge." Tim smiled, flashing his pearly white teeth. "'Cause I think you know better than anyone that I haven't had a _real_ challenge since I got here…"

Snape looked down at his arm, rubbing it gently before looking back at Tim. "Oh, I'm sure a _real_ challenge will show up… sooner than you think…" he said ominously.

"Lookin' forward to it." Tim said, raising his eyebrows in jest. Snape sighed, before quickly leaving the room with Professor McGonagall. Tim and Dumbledore shared a quiet nod of understanding, with Tim knowing full well what he had to do.


	15. The Coward's Way

"Sir, look, can you please put a shirt on?"

"Not in front of the students."

"What?"

" _You_ put on a shirt."

"I'm… wearing a shirt."

"Exactly."

Rita Skeeter sighed, before turning to Bozo, her photographer. "I guess we'll have to take photos another time then. Oh well."

Bozo grumbled indignantly at Tim, who was decidedly against wearing a shirt for the photoshoot that had apparently been organized without any of the champions' consent or knowledge. Harry was actually glad that there wasn't going to be a photoshoot, as he'd been having flashbacks of Colin Creevey and his stupid face shoving his stupid camera in front of him. The whole thing was stupid, Harry thought.

"So does that mean that we're done here?" Harry asked.

"Oh, no, of course not." Rita smiled. "I still have to interview each of you, so who'd like to go first?"

The five champions looked amongst themselves, and Tim could tell that none of the others wanted to be interviewed at all, especially Fleur, who found that Rita had been rather intimate with her before the photoshoot was supposed to begin. Tim sighed. "I'll do it." He spoke up.

"Alright then, come along." She beckoned, Tim hearing Harry sigh with relief as Rita led the young Professor into a broom cupboard and shutting the door. The space between them was almost non-existent.

"You know," Tim began. "You didn't have to go to all this trouble to get me alone…"

Rita laughed prettily. " _You_ think highly of yourself…" she whispered.

"Don't _you_?" Tim asked softly, allowing Rita to run her fingers across his chest. "You didn't want me to put a shirt on for integrity or anything. You just wanted to be the only one who could get a good look at these." He said, tensing to show off his pecks. "Well, we're alone now… and I'm _all_ _yours_ …"

Rita shivered, a warmness flowing through her body, before she leapt at Tim, pressing her lips against his, unable to suppress her carnal desires. Tim smiled, feeling Rita ravish his body as her hands traveled down his chest. He pulled away once he felt her trying to get his pants off. "What?" she asked, longing for the feeling of Tim's lips against hers.

"Not yet…" Tim whispered, gently moving her hands away from his crotch, and pushing her up against the wall, before continuing to kiss her keenly, which was all that Rita desired, the reporter completely intoxicated and overpowered by Tim's aura.

* * *

Quite a while had passed when the door to the cupboard opened again, Rita stepping out with frazzled hair and panting wildly like a dog in heat. Tim, on the other hand, looked and felt virtually the same, flashing a smile to Rita. Rita readjusted her glasses before exhaling loudly. "There's…" she breathed, "no more time for interviews." She said. The other four champions, and Rita's assistant Bozo, had waited for both her and Tim, and were all now very perplexed at Rita's behavior. Rita tossed Bozo her notepad. The one that she was supposed to use to note down Tim's answers to her interview questions, of which there were none. "Let's go now, Bozo." Rita said softly, beckoning to the photographer.

Bozo looked over the notepad, eyebrows raised in confusion. "There's… nothing in this… This is empty…" he noted.

"Yes." Rita nodded, and then proceeded to walk out the door.

"B-Boss?" Bozo asked, eyes wide as he followed Rita out.

Tim turned to the other four champions. "Look at that… dodged a bullet, huh?" he grinned.

* * *

Ever since the Champions Ceremony had ended that night, all anyone could talk about, be it first-years, seventh-years, or teachers, was the Triwizard Tournament. Hogwarts itself had seemed to break off into camps and cliques supporting different champions. For instance, most of the female students were supporting Tim, whereas the male Hufflepuff and Slytherin students were supporting Cedric, the former House even making 'Cedric Rules!' and 'Potter Stinks!' badges for people to wear and show their support. Poor Harry was the object of scorn and ridicule from most of the students by that point, with even his two best friends, Ron and Hermione, seemingly hating his guts.

What none of them knew, however, was that Harry knew what the first challenge was going to involve. Still though, that didn't make him any more popular, and it certainly didn't ease his mind on what was to come.

Harry walked through the corridor, absolutely fed up from the students shoving their Cedric support badges in his face, before coming face-to-face with Ron, who sighed audibly.

"You're a bastard, you know that?" Harry told him.

Ron laughed. "Yeah? You can talk. At least I _have_ a family…"

"I wouldn't want a family like yours if it was the last family on Earth. Besides, my parents died trying to protect me. Your family would probably just run away and hide like a bunch of cowards!"

"You…!" Ron snarled, curling his hand into a fist and taking a swing at Harry. However, thanks to the training that Harry had undergone with Tim in the previous year, Harry was able to catch Ron's fist in his hand, before twisting Ron's hand back against his arm. Ron screamed out in pain, it not occurring to him to get out his wand with his free hand and use the Stunning Spell against Harry. Harry brought his right leg out, tripping Ron over as he was released from Harry's grip.

"And you know what?!" Harry shouted. "I'm glad your rat Scabbers deserted you. I hope he's dead. Now stay the Hell away from me!" And with that, Harry stormed off, hoping to find a quiet place to mull things over. It wasn't to be, however, as another person's voice rang in his ears.

"Why so tense, Potter?!"

Harry sighed, looking over in the direction of the voice to find Draco Malfoy sitting in a tree on his own. Why he was in the tree, no one knew, but Harry didn't care anyway.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry asked dryly.

"My father and I have a bet going on. I think you won't last ten minutes in the Triwizard Tournament." Draco smiled smugly, jumping down from the tree before slowly walking over to Harry. " _Father_ thinks you won't last _five_."

"I don't give a damn what your father thinks, Malfoy!" Harry shouted, walking towards him. "He's a monster, just like you!" he said, determined, before turning his back and walking away.

Draco breathed heavily. "No one insults my father, _you_ _filthy_ _half-blood_!" he yelled hoarsely, drawing his wand and getting ready to attack Harry from behind.

Almost out of nowhere, Tim appeared, charging at Draco, giving him a swift kick in the shin, as the bone in his left leg almost shattered, the skin breaking apart as the bone popped out, hanging out of the bottom of his foot, coated in a thin line of blood. If Draco hadn't have been letting loose a bloodcurdling scream, then he would have been vomiting at the sight of his own leg, which seemed like an offshoot from his actual body.

"Once you actually _get_ tough, then you can _talk_ tough." Tim said simply, before turning to address the crowd that had gathered from the commotion. "Someone had better take him to the infirmary. I doubt magic will be able to fix this."

Draco grunted in pain, his eyes filled with tears. "My father will hear about this…!" he cringed. "You'll get yours, Muggle!"

Tim roared, punching Draco in the stomach as blood spilled from his mouth, staining his robes. "You preppy little shit…" Tim muttered, watching as Draco drifted out of consciousness. A silence fell over the crowd, most of the Slytherin students who'd gathered looking at Draco in horror. Pansy Parkinson burst into tears, while Harry just looked at Tim in absolute amazement, even in spite of the violence he had bared witness to. "Let this be a lesson to anyone who tries attacking someone when their back is turned!" Tim told all the students, before singling out the Slytherins. "I'm taking fifty House Points away from you lot as well."

Harry stood back, silently observing the Professor-turned-Champion. Slytherin students attempted to protest, but all Tim needed to do was shoot them a powerful glare and their resolve was gone. The crowd of students began to dissipate, with Crabbe and Goyle lifting Draco's body off the ground and carrying him away. Soon, it was just Tim and Harry standing near each other. "Professor-"

"Remember, call me 'Tim', Harry." He said, keeping his eyes on the group of students that was slipping from his view.

Harry nodded. "Yes, um… Well… thank you…"

"Don't mention it." Tim brushed Harry off. "Attacking someone from behind is the coward's way. It's unforgivable."

Harry turned away, thinking about what Bartemius had told himself, Tim, and Cedric, before shaking his head and turning back to his teacher.

"Tim, I know we're supposed to be competing separately, but I have to tell you. The first task. It's-"

"Don't tell me! I want it to be a surprise." Tim interrupted.

Harry's mouth went agape. "Are… Are you serious?"

"O'course." Tim said. "Whatever it is, I'll be able to handle it."

"…Well, alright. Suit yourself." Harry shrugged, and then turned to leave, but Harry didn't move from his spot.

"Something wrong, Harry?" Tim asked, noting the young boy's hesitance.

"Um… I don't know… I've just been thinking…" Harry sighed. "Look, I don't know what it means, but… just before the school year began, I had a dream… about 'You-Know-Who'…"

"You mean _Voldemort_." Tim spoke sternly. "Don't give him power by not saying his name, Harry. He's just like anyone else. Don't be afraid to say his name."

"Yes, sir." Harry nodded.

"Anyway, what was this dream about?"

"Um… to be honest, I'm not quite sure. Voldemort was talking to two people, but… Voldemort himself, I couldn't see…"

"What about the other two?"

"Well, one of them was quite short, a little stubby-looking, with small eyes. The other one was taller, and had pale skin and brown hair." Harry explained. "Why? Do you think the dream means something?"

For a moment, Tim wanted to tell Harry everything; that he and Dumbledore were using Harry to lure out Voldemort. But that moment quickly faded as he realized that doing so might cause Harry to react negatively, and also screw up their chance to get Voldemort out in the open. Instead, Tim sighed, and gave Harry a reassuring smile. "Nah. I'm sure it was just a dream. Don't worry about it."

"But… in my first year, you told me that Voldemort was going to reappear. I didn't believe you back then, to be honest, but now… I think you were right…"

"Focus on the tournament, Harry. Not on Voldemort. Surviving the tournament should be your top priority at the moment. Same thing with Draco. Don't let him get to you."

"I wasn't. I-I didn't." Harry said, but Tim gave Harry a look as though he knew he was lying.

"Come on, Harry. I saw what you were gonna do." Tim smiled. "You leave Draco to me. Focus on the tournament." He repeated. "I'll have no problem in the tournament. You, on the other hand, definitely will."

Harry wanted to be offended. He felt like he _should_ have been offended, but Tim had a point. Compared to the other champions, Harry was outclassed, at least in brute strength, by Cedric and Viktor, even with Tim's training. Fleur on the other hand, while possibly not as physically strong as the others, was still a force to be reckoned with, and Harry knew this from the way that she commanded the whims of every male student she walked past. Sure, Fleur was attractive, but there was something otherworldly about her, something that Harry couldn't put his finger on.

"You need to come up with a plan of attack." Tim explained. "The fact that you know what the first challenge is, that's your advantage. But you'd better come up with a strategy or something soon. The tournament will be here before you know it, and I'm sure that Viktor and Fleur already have strategies in mind, even if they don't know what the first challenge is. You… you haven't told _them_ , have you?"

Harry shook his head. "No, but, um… I _did_ tell Cedric…" he muttered.

Tim's eyes widened. "Why?"

"Well, he's competing like us, right? I mean, yeah, I hate the badges everyone's wearing, but that's not really his fault though, is it? He told me that he's tried to get people to stop wearing them."

"Forget about Fredric, Harry. I've taught him for the past three years, and while he's a smart kid, he's not anything special. Seriously, until now, have you ever spoken to him, or had any real interaction with him?"

"Well, he's the Hufflepuff Seeker, so we've played Quidditch against each other every year."

"Okay, well, other than that, you don't have anything to do with him, right?"

"Yeah, I guess…"

"Well then forget about him." Tim turned back in the direction of the large doors that led back into Hogwarts. "Why don't we talk about this more in my room? You can get some last-minute training in that way too."

Harry nodded. "That actually sounds good." He smiled, accepting Tim's offer. The two of them began their walk back into the castle, with Harry trying his best to avert Ron's eyes, the ginger standing alone, staring menacingly at him.


	16. Dragon Brawl T

The day of the first task began like any other. Students and teachers sat in the Great Hall eating breakfast together, though unlike every other day, the only topic on everyone's minds was the Triwizard Tournament. Tim had made sure to give himself enough protein for his body to function properly for whatever the challenge was going to be. He wasn't quite sure, and Harry thankfully hadn't given him any hints as to what it was, but Tim assumed it would be a physical challenge, just based on the general chatter he'd overheard from around the school.

Tim's eyes moved from his plate, watching Luna Lovegood approach him quickly. Tim's brows furrowed just a little, as Luna's normally light blonde hair had seemingly changed color since the last time he'd seen her. Now, her hair was colored a bright fiery orange – the same color as Tim's.

Tim quickly changed his expression to a more relaxed and cheerful one. "Good morning, Luna."

"Morning Professor Ihansha." Luna smiled sweetly. "What do you think of my hair? I wanted it to be the same color as yours to show my support."

"Ah… I thought so… Well, anyway… Thank you, Luna. It… it looks good on you…"

"I just wanted to say, I hope you'll do well. I'll be cheering for you." Once again, Luna smiled, quickly walking off after having said her piece.

Tim sighed, thinking how unfortunate it was that Luna didn't have any friends. Sure, the way she carried herself might have been a little different from everyone else, but she was a nice girl, nicer than most of the girls that Tim had had the pleasure of teaching.

Tim's eyes wandered to Harry, Tim getting up from his seat at the Great Hall.

It was time.

Tim moved, walking over to the Gryffindor table and tapping Harry lightly on the shoulder. Harry turned to him. "It's time, Harry. We have to head down to the grounds and prep for the first task."

"O-okay…" Harry mumbled, swallowing as he shakily got up from his spot next to Hermione.

"Good luck. _Both_ of you." Hermione urged.

Tim smiled, nodding to the young girl before leading Harry out of the Great Hall. The cool morning air cut at Harry's form, while only serving to make Tim's nipples harden, his chest bare, as almost always. Tim put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Don't worry. You've got your wand. You'll be fine."

"If you say so…" Harry muttered. The two of them walked in silence for the rest of the time, leaving the Hogwarts Castle and moving swiftly towards the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, where a tent had been erected, its position looking as though it was meant to block something from the Champions' views. Tim's pace quickened just a little as he moved to enter the tent, Harry following closely behind him.

It was a much larger tent on the inside than what it seemed to be on the outside, but Tim chalked that up to magic. Fleur Delacour sat in silence in a corner of the room. Her face, from what Tim could see, seemed very pale, and looked to be the first sign of genuine emotion she'd displayed since arriving at Hogwarts. Viktor Krum had his eyes closed and was mumbling something to himself. Cedric Diggory looked to be the worst of the lot, his face even paler than usual, and his body shaking uncontrollably.

"So this is where we're supposed to meet, right?" Tim asked the other champions. Fleur turned to nod quickly at Tim, Cedric and Viktor remaining silent. "What's the deal with the silence?" he asked again.

Cedric audibly cleared his throat. "Um…"

"'Um…' what?" Tim questioned, turning his attention entirely to the Hufflepuff. "Are things getting too serious now?! Did you not realize the gravity of what you signed up for?!" Tim scoffed, spitting on the ground. "A bit too late for that now, isn't it? You've been lapping up the support from the students, so it's time for you to get your head out of your ass and fight! Show the other students that they're right to support you!" Tim then turned to Harry. "Or wrong to doubt you…"

It seemed that Fleur and Viktor had hung on Tim's words as he'd hoped Cedric and Harry would've. Harry nodded at his professor, feeling as though the muscles in his neck were abnormally tight.

The sound of footsteps caused the five champions to turn back to the entrance of the tent as Dumbledore, McGonagall, Maxime, Karkaroff, and Bartemius came in one after the other. The sound of footsteps didn't decrease however, as Harry noticed the shadows of more people walking past them from outside the tent. He could also hear Draco Malfoy conversing with Crabbe and Goyle, telling them that he was looking forward to seeing Harry die.

"Good morning, everyone." Bartemius greeted, his happy tone seeming somewhat forced. "I trust you've all had a good night's rest and are ready to begin the first task today in earnest!"

"What's the challenge?" Tim asked bluntly, leaving Bartemius a little bit flustered.

"I will hand this bag," Bartemius began, holding up a purple silken bag and showing it off to the champions. "To each of you. You'll reach in and collect a figurine of the creature you'll be facing in the challenge." Bartemius turned to Fleur. "Miss Delacour, if you'd like to go first…"

With hesitance, Fleur looked over to Maxime, her teacher offering a reassuring smile. Fleur reached into the bag that Bartemius opened for her and grabbed the first thing her hands touched, quickly taking her hand out again.

Tim and the other champions looked down at the small figure, a green dragon, in Fleur's hand. "Ah, the Welsh Greenwing." Bartemius smiled, his tone now much more genuine as he turned to the next champion. "Mister Krum, your turn." He motioned. Without even blinking, Viktor threw his hand into the bag and pulled out a figure, this one much larger than Fleur's. "Ooh! The Hungarian Horntail!"

Tim sighed. "Alright, that's enough. It's my turn." He said, pushing Cedric and gently guiding Fleur out of the way as he reached into the bag, his fingers gliding over the top of three figures. He felt around them to find the one which seemed to be the biggest, and took that one out of the bag. And sure enough, it was.

"The Ukrainian Ironbelly…" Bartemius muttered breathlessly.

Gasps were heard from every corner of the room as Tim raised an eyebrow. "Okay… that's fine…" he shrugged. "Who's next?"

"Mister Diggory." Bartemius sighed, his annoyance obvious. Taking a deep breath, Cedric moved forward, placing his hand into the bag and pulling out a figurine of an orangey-red dragon. Bartemius's smile returned, nodding to Cedric. "You, my boy, have the Chinese Fireball…" Bartemius then turned to Harry. "That leaves one dragon left for you, Mister Potter."

Harry swallowed audibly, knowing the dragon that was still left in the bag. Though he was glad it wasn't the Horntail or the Ironbelly, Harry would've preferred not to have been facing any dragon at all. Still though, Harry put his hand into the bag, pulling out the Swedish Shortsnout.

Tim fought off the urge to crush the miniature dragon in his grip, instead focusing on Bartemius. "So what? Our goal is to kill each of our dragons?" he asked.

"No, no, Tim. Each of these dragons have been given a golden egg to protect. To complete the task, you simply need to retrieve the egg while avoiding the dragon." Bartemius's eyes moved away. "Besides, I… I wouldn't expect a Muggle to be able to defeat a Ukrainian Ironbelly…" he mumbled. Tim seemed to be the only one who heard him.

"We'll see…" Tim smiled, giving in to his inhibitions and squashing the dragon figure in his grip, holding it tight as fluid from the dragon's body ran down his arm.

Bartemius readjusted his posture as his eyes returned to Tim. "You didn't check the tag."

"What tag?"

"Each of the dragons have a tag around their neck with a number on it. The number indicates the order that each of you will proceed to attempt the task."

"Oh…" Tim sighed, unclenching his fist and checking the tag on the dragon corpse. "Ah… number one… neat…" Tim shrugged, glancing over at the numbers on each of the other champions' dragon tags. Cedric was second, Fleur was third, Viktor fourth, and Harry was last.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Alright. Now, since you're first, Tim, at the sound of the whistle, head out into the arena." Dumbledore then turned to face McGonagall and the interschool staff. "I think it's time we head for our seats." He suggested, the group of them leaving the tent, but not before McGonagall shot a worrying glance at Harry.

It would only take five minutes for the whistle to finally sound, at which point Tim quickly made his way out from the tent and into the arena.

Immediately, Tim could feel the eyes of almost every student staring down at him, some of them, mostly the female students, chanting his surname with delight. Specifically, he could see Hermione, Luna, Dumbledore, Rita Skeeter and Cornelius Fudge looking down at him with mixed expressions, all from different seating positions in the surrounding bleachers. Tim smiled, enjoying the attention before he began observing the arena he was enclosed in. It was quite large, the terrain rocky and uneven, the bleachers looking to be made of wood. Surely a poor design choice, what with a fire-breathing dragon in the arena.

Tim jumped up onto one of the rocks, looking at the Ukrainian Ironbelly across from him, its wings poised and red eyes staring deep into his own.

"That's one whopper of a lizard!" Tim shouted.

Had Tim not already defeated the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets two years prior, he might have had even a little bit of trouble against the Ironbelly, but he wasn't even nervous. No. Tim wasn't going to let it shake his composure. With a mighty roar, Tim charged at the dragon, its blood-red eyes staring down intently at the half-naked combatant. Bringing up one of its front legs, the dragon intended to crush Tim in one fell swoop.

" _Professor_! _Look out_!" Hermione cried.

Tim's eyes widened as the Ukrainian Ironbelly brought its powerful foot down on him. The impact caused the rocky arena to shudder in wake of the blow, the surrounding stands barely keeping together. A Mexican gasp made its way through the audience, which was like a Mexican wave, but more gaspy. Hermione struggled to keep herself together, as she and most of the audience feared the worst.

A low drawl came from somewhere in the crowd. "He's dead…"

Dumbledore rose to his feet. "No. Look." He instructed, pointing back down into the arena. The audience could slowly see Tim beginning to lift the dragon's massive clawed foot above his head.

"Damn, you're actually pretty heavy…" Tim groaned. "I guess I don't have a choice…" he exhaled, readying his body. " _Kaio-ken!_ " Tim's body became cloaked in a powerful red aura as every muscle in his body tightened, bulging even more incredibly than normal. Tim threw the dragon into the air effortlessly before the aura dissipated suddenly and the dragon came crashing back down into the arena.

The impact caused a cloud of dust to form in the arena, obscuring Tim's view of the dragon. Without warning, the Ironbelly's tail whipped forward, attempting to strike Tim. The audience watched as Tim, who was still recovering from the exertion of lifting up the sixty foot tall dragon, barely had any time to react as the tail ran through him.

Once again, Hermione cried out in alarm. " _Professor_! _No_!"

"Miss Granger, it's okay!" McGonagall called. "Tim used the Afterimage Technique."

The image of Tim, a transparent distortion, flickered side to side before fading away completely a few moments later.

"What? Where'd he go?" Fudge asked, looking around desperately, trying to find where Tim went. Eventually, his eyes caught sight of Tim standing on top of the Ironbelly's head, the dragon itself having no idea of Tim's whereabouts. "Unbelievable! He's just a Muggle!"

"Could a Muggle do _this_?!" Tim yelled, backflipping off the head of the dragon and landing on the rocky ground below. The dragon's large red eyes zeroed in on Tim, and for a moment, their eyes met, and the Ironbelly's heart skipped a beat. Tim smiled, knowing full-well that the dragon realized it had no chance of winning. Tim rushed towards the dragon, his right arm pulled back ready to punch. Before the Ironbelly had a chance to react, Tim drove his fist into the dragon's chest, striking him consecutively, each blow more powerful than the last.

Only able to take so much, the Ironbelly collapsed, falling forward. Before its head hit the ground, Tim leaped into the air, uppercutting its jaw and then grabbing the side of its face roughly in his hands.

"Where is the egg?! Where is the egg?!" Tim shouted, punching the dragon's face, although the dragon had already died. Some of the younger students in the stands started crying. Out of the corner of his eye, Tim saw a glint of gold. "Oh, hey, there's the egg!" Tim smiled, happily skipping over and picking up the egg.

The audience erupted into applause as the Kaio-ken finally took its toll on Tim's body, the indescribably attractive teacher doubling over and coughing up gold blood onto the ground. Though no one else could see the color of the blood, they could tell that Tim was in pain.

"That's the price you pay with the Kaio-ken Technique. It's just too stressful on the body…" McGonagall muttered.

In spite of Tim's condition, it didn't matter. He was the first Muggle ever to win a Triwizard Task, and this time, the audience did a Mexican wave for real.


	17. Rock den Weihnachtsball

Dumbledore sighed, looking at Tim with mild disdain, the young Professor staring across at the elderly wizard in silence.

"…What?" Tim asked finally, until then seeming like just another bizarre piece of furniture in Dumbledore's office.

"Did you have to kill _all five_ dragons?" Dumbledore asked.

"Hey, I let the other champions complete their tasks. I just wanted to see how strong the other dragons were."

"Well, I have lots of paperwork to fill out for the Ministry now. You know that dragons are an endangered species, don't you?"

"They should've got better dragons…" Tim mumbled.

Dumbledore sighed. "In any case, you've got the egg, try and figure out what the next challenge is going to be."

"I'm planning on just winging the next one."

"That's not a good idea, Tim." Dumbledore warned him. "It's not just about you, it's about Harry as well. If he loses in the Tournament, everything we're working toward will be in vain. For Harry's sake… for _our_ sake, I think it's best you find out what the next task is going to be, so you can let him know."

" _Or_ …" Tim shrugged. " _You_ could just tell me what the next challenge is, or tell Harry yourself, without going through all this crap."

"I can't do that, Tim. It would be against the rules."

"Are you serious, Dumbledude? I'm a freaking _Muggle_ teaching _Magic_ at a _Magic School_! Why are you suddenly caring about rules?"

"If the other schools found out that I assisted you or the other Hogwarts Champions in any way, we could be disqualified from the Tournament, which would mean all our efforts would've been wasted."

"Ah… I see your point…" Tim sighed. "Alright, I'll figure it out, and tell Harry when I do."

"Excellent." Dumbledore smiled.

* * *

The following day, the Great Hall was bustling with breakfast activities, the topic of conversation a universal one: Tim's triumphant victory, along with the other champions'. Tim was accosted by several female students, all requesting that he sign some personal items of theirs; their books, their shirts, their breasts. The other champions weren't receiving the same treatment, though Harry wasn't really concerned about that at all, he was just relieved to have passed the First Task.

Ron stuffed his face with Spotted Dick, while Hermione scrunched her face in disgust, not at Ron's gluttony, but at the newspaper article she was reading, written by Rita Skeeter.

"Have you seen this, Ron?!" Hermione asked, outraged.

"Listen, I'm not trying to be mean, but I really don't care about the rights of House Elves…" Ron said, Spotted Dick falling from his mouth.

"Well you should!" Hermione declared. "But it's not that, it's-" Hermione stopped, noticing Nigel Wolpert, a young Gryffindor student walking over to them, a bulky package in his tiny wizard arms. "Oh, good morning Nigel." Hermione smiled.

"Morning, Hermione…" Nigel swooned, staring wistfully at the beautiful young witch for a few seconds.

"Nigel?" Ron asked, having finished swallowing the Spotted Dick.

"Ooh, sorry, Ron. I almost forgot," Nigel blushed. "A package came for you."

"Ah, thank you." Ron smiled, though Nigel kept staring at Hermione. "Uh, Nigel, you can go now…"

Nigel quickly shook his head. "Ah, yes, okay, goodbye." He said quickly, moving over to a vacant spot at the Gryffindor table. Ron quickly began opening the package, loosening the string and tearing off the wrapping paper. A large cardboard box was inside, with a note from Ron's mother, Molly Weasley, on it.

Disregarding the note, Ron quickly opened the box to find an old garment, that, when he held out in front of him, looked as though it was something a woman would wear. "What the…? Ma sent me a dress…"

"Those are dress robes, Ron." Hermione giggled, Tim walking by with a plate of scrambled egg whites wearing what appeared to be dress robes of his own, though his seemed slightly more modern, and specifically designed to show off his abundant cleavage.

"Ah," Ron sighed. "I guess it's not too bad. Professor Ihansha's wearing dress robes as well."

Tim stopped walking and turned to the group with a confused look on his face. "What? Dress robes? Dumblebro told me these were Wizard Eating Clothes…"

Hermione groaned, pressing her face into the palm of her right hand.

* * *

"Alright, alright, settle down, class." McGonagall hushed the unruly group of students confused by the layout of the Transfiguration classroom. The desks had been moved away, and the students were seated around the edge of the room, with the main floor space clear. The boys were seated opposite to the girls. "There seems to be a bit of confusion as to why students have been sent formal clothing from their parents. It is because we have an up-and-coming event to do with the Triwizard Tournament: the Yule Ball." As McGonagall was addressing the class she realized that Tim had entered and was standing at the back of the room, observing the rather unusual class. "The Yule Ball is first and foremost a dance, and so, instead of our usual Transfiguration lesson, today I shall be teaching you how to dance. Mister Weasley, to your feet." She instructed, gesturing to Ron who was sitting towards the back of the group of boys.

Ron shivered, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan playfully nudging him. Ron sighed, but before he could stand in compliance with McGonagall's instructions, he felt a large and heavy hand on his shoulder holding him down. "I've got this one, kid." Tim's voice boomed from behind him.

The class went silent as all eyes shifted between the two teachers. "Professor Ihansha, I asked Mister Weasley to join me, not you." McGonagall said shakily, as though she was flustered by the interruption.

Tim laughed as he stepped towards the older woman, showing her his pearly whites. "Professor McGonagall, don't ask a _boy_ to do something that only a _man_ could handle." He smiled. Once Tim's body was inches away from McGonagall's, the young Professor reached up with one of his powerful arms – that was not long ago used to brutally slay a Ukrainian Ironbelly – and gently moved a loose strand of the woman's hair behind her ear. McGonagall let out a quivering breath as her knees buckled, but Tim caught her in his arms and pulled her body closer still, until her chest, soft and tender, pushed up against Tim's, hard and muscular.

As if she only just remembered she was standing in front of her class at that moment, McGonagall reclaimed as much composure as she could. "Okay class, everyone find a partner…" she muttered, her voice still shaky from the animalistic excitement of being held in Tim's arms.

The students reluctantly stood up and walked to the center of the room where, with surprisingly little disagreement between them, they all partnered up and assumed positions similar to their demonstrating teachers, though not quite as sensual. They began to sway to the music, a poor man's rendition of Yanni's 'Santorini' emanating from the large gramophone that was positioned to the side of the room.

Tim leaned in close to Professor McGonagall's ear. "Can I speak to you outside in the hall for a moment?" he whispered.

"The children need supervision…" McGonagall whispered back, still able to remember her duties as teacher despite her enjoyment and sense of security in Tim's arms.

"They'll be fine. They know what I'll do to them if they misbehave." Tim replied.

"Well, okay then," McGonagall conceded. "But we have to make it quick."

Tim led the way outside as Professor McGonagall followed from behind. As soon as they were both through the door, Tim turned around to face the woman. "So, has anyone asked you to the Ball yet?" he inquired, a hint of nervousness in his usually confident voice.

"No, not yet. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I was just wondering… you know, just curious is all…" Tim answered as he began to fidget. "I don't do this sort of thing very often, but I was wondering if you wanted to go to the Yule Ball with me…" Tim held his breath waiting for his older colleague's reply.

"Go with _me_?" McGonagall asked, sounding surprised. "You aren't serious, are you? You could ask anyone you wanted to go with you, and they would…"

"That's a 'no', isn't it…?" Tim mumbled. "I knew it, that's cool, I wasn't gonna go anyway, I don't even _like_ Balls that much…!" Tim blurted out, his eyes watering as if he'd burst into tears at any moment.

Just as Tim was about to turn around and hurry back to the class, McGonagall shot out her arm and grabbed onto Tim's hand, the young Professor turning to look back at her as she smiled. "Tim Ihansha, I would _love_ to go to the Yule Ball with you." she said.

Tim's perfect face lit up with a radiant joy at McGonagall's words. "Oh, thank you so much! We're going to have such a good time, it'll be totally rad!" Tim exclaimed ecstatically. And with that, as if he had too much energy to contain, he rushed off down the corridor. "I'll see you at the Ball!" Tim shouted as he turned a corner, moving out of sight from the older witch.

Before Professor McGonagall reentered her class to see how the students were going with their dancing, she took a moment to lean against the wall and let what just happened sink in. She could barely contain her happiness. She was going to the Yule Ball with Tim Ihansha, and she was going to have the night of her life.

* * *

The Great Hall was buzzing with activity on the night of the Yule Ball, but Tim could barely recognize the old room. The familiar dining tables were nowhere to be seen. In their stead were beautifully polished black and white floor tiles that were gleaming, with intricate ice sculptures displayed on smaller tables made of crystal, and the high ceiling appearing as though snow gently fell from it, falling on all of the students, who were dressed in their finest dresses and dress robes.

McGonagall had informed Tim when he arrived that he, as a Triwizard Champion, and herself as his date, would be among the first to dance at the Ball. Due to Tim's height however, he and McGonagall were the last to enter the Great Hall, following along after Harry and Parvati Patil, Cedric and Cho Chang, Hermione and Viktor Krum, with Fleur and Roger Davies leading the group.

Students and teachers alike clapped wildly as the Champions and their dates walked arm in arm to the center of the room. Filius Flitwick tapped his baton lightly on the music stand as he stood before the Hogwarts Amateur Philharmonic and the dancing parties. Tim placed a hand on McGonagall's side, taking one of her hands with his free one. McGonagall placed an arm on his shoulder, looking into the eyes of the young man who none could deny had an unequivocal zest for life. With a flick of the wrist, the orchestra began playing a variation of the waltz.

Tim led, but allowed McGonagall to easily match his movements with her own, their eyes staring deeply into each other's own. Both Tim and McGonagall couldn't help but smile. Other couples soon began making their way onto the dancefloor. Ginny and Neville, Seamus and Lavender Brown, heck, even Filch started dancing with his cat Mrs. Norris.

"This is nice…" McGonagall whispered to Tim.

"'Tis, isn't it…?" Tim smiled. "You look beautiful in that dress, by the way…"

McGonagall crimsoned, leaning in closer to Tim. "I look better without it…" she whispered.

This time, it was Tim's turn to blush. The Hogwarts Amateur Philharmonic finished playing, the curtains dropping down suddenly. The students that weren't dancing gave a round of applause before Flitwick pushed back through the opening, carrying a weird-looking microphone.

"Thank you, thank you!" He cheered. "And now, performing here at Hogwarts for the first time, The Weird Sisters!"

The curtains parted quickly, the Hogwarts Amateur Philharmonic having vanished from the stage, eight adults standing in their place, each holding their own musical instrument, except for the singer who seemed to be clutching vehemently at his microphone, a mysterious white powder smeared under his nose.

"Actually, we're thinking of changing our name to The Pembroke River Family Disaster… there's a survey going around…" the singer, Myron Wagtail mumbled. "Alright! One, two, three! ㇸ6Move your body like a hairy troll, learning to rock and roll. Spin around like a crazy elf, dancin' by himself. Boogie down like a unicorn, no stoppin' till the break of dawn. Put your hands up in the air, like an ogre who just don't care!ㇸ6"

The bass player, Donaghan Tremlett, was obviously getting way too into the experience, losing himself completely in the music and tripping over his own feet, collapsing onto the ground and smashing his bass guitar in the process. The rest of the band continued playing on regardless, as he was just the bass player and didn't really matter.

As they finished playing, a sudden quiet overtook the room, the rest of the band all turning to look at their fallen bass player.

"I can't believe you fell again, Donaghan! That's the fifth bloody time! You're useless!" Myron shouted.

"I'm _sorry_!" Donaghan whined, tears coming to his eyes. "Please, you can't kick me out! My wife left me, and she took the kids! This band is all I have!" he blubbered.

"I don't want to hear it!" Myron yelled. "Get off the bloody stage, or I'll Cruciatus your ass!"

"No, _please_!"

Myron's eyes burned deep into Donaghan's, the former drawing his wand. "Get Stupified!" he shouted, a jet of red light bursting forth from the tip of Myron's wand, striking Donaghan in the chest and throwing him off the stage. Myron sighed, turning to address the crowd of rather frightened students. "Sorry, everyone, our bass player is a bit of a retard. He was in Hufflepuff, you see. Anyway, unfortunately, due to a sudden and unexpected line-up change, we have to end our show early."

The crowd groaned in disapproval, but was easily silenced by a powerful shout. " _Wait_!" Tim yelled, all attention in the Great Hall being drawn to him. "Music shouldn't be silenced!" he declared, untying his hair, allowing it to fall loosely over his shoulders. Tim seemed to acquire his bass guitar, the one he'd taken from the music room one year ago, out of nowhere.

Tim made his way up to the stage, taking in the fact that he was, once again, the center of attention (and loving it). "Alright, this is an oldie where I come from…" Tim addressed, turning to the rest of the band. "Alright, watch me for the changes and try and keep up, okay?" Tim walked up to the mic, pushing Myron out of the way as Tim began to whisper: "Let the bodies hit the floor, let the bodies hit the floor, let the bodies hit the floor, let the bodies hit the…" suddenly, with all his might, as the band joined in, Tim yelled, " _Flooooooor_!"

Almost instantly, the crowd opened up to form a Wall of Death, charging together, student and teacher alike smashing their bodies against each other, no regard for anyone's safety, the pain blocked out by the sheer power and energy of Tim's rock and overall musical genius.

* * *

The mosh continued uninterrupted for several hours, and by the end, the floor was slick with blood. Those that weren't initially injured in the Wall of Death and had survived the musical experience were beginning to wind down for the night.

Tim left the stage, leaving the band to play the rest of their set without a bass player. Tim had obviously done something right, as he'd been given the band's contact information, with the offer that they'd pay any price to have him as a full member of the band.

Tim removed his dress robes, tying his hair back up as he walked over to Harry and Ron, the two boys seemingly ignoring each other, only together because their dates were twin sisters.

"Oh my God!" Parvati swooned, her and her sister rushing up to Tim, ignoring their dates. "That mosh pit was amazing!"

"I've seen better…" Tim shrugged, continuing to walk past the Patil twins and taking the seat in-between Harry and Ron. "So boys, you havin' a nice night?"

"I'm sleepy and my feet hurt!" Ron complained.

"Shut up Ron, you soulless twat!" Harry growled.

"I'll kill your parents!" Ron snapped back. "Oh wait…" he smiled cheekily.

"Calm your tits, boys. Don't ruin the night for everyone." Tim said.

"Oh, Tim! _Ti~im_!" McGonagall called from across the room. Tim turned, seeing McGonagall beckon him over to her with a smile.

"I've gotta go." Tim smiled, getting up and turning back to the boys. "She's insatiable. _Insatiable_." Tim repeated.

"Stop saying 'insatiable'…" Ron groaned.

"I'll say whatever I want!" Tim yelled, pushing Ron off his seat. Tim bent down, grabbing Ron by the collar. "If you _ever_ tell me what to do again, I'll kill you…" he whispered aggressively. Tim quickly let go of Ron's collar, his happy demeanor returning as the Professor happily skipped over to McGonagall.

Thanks to Tim, everybody had a great night.

…Except for Ron, who soiled himself in terror.


	18. The Muggle Murmaiderer

"Okay…" Tim sighed, continuing to circle around the golden egg he'd taken back to his room. Flexing his fingers and cracking his neck, he'd had just about enough of the egg. All he knew about it was that it supposedly contained a clue to help him with the Second Task, but that was all. He inspected the egg closely in case it had some sort of inscription or markings on it, but all it had was a long horizontal slit around the middle. He tried opening it, but whenever he did, a high-pitched wail emanated from the egg, which was incredibly irritating to say the least. Tim threw the closed egg onto his bed and sighed once more. "Screaming…" he muttered, tapping his fingers on the sides of his legs, trying to use the only piece of information he had to figure out the Second Task.

Tim stared down at the egg for a long while, knowing full-well that if he opened it, the sound of screaming would fill his ears once more. But what else could he do? He had nothing else to go on, and he had to try and figure out what the Second Task was going to be, if for no one else, than for Harry, and for what it would mean in the end.

Tim picked up the egg, closed his eyes, and opened it once again, a loud piercing scream echoing throughout his room. It was less loud than it was annoying at this point, Tim taking the open egg and placing it on the floor. "Okay, what is it I need to do with you?!" he asked the egg, getting no reply other than the continuing wail. "Go on!" Tim shouted. "Scream as _much_ as you like!"

The screaming continued for several minutes, Tim's composure slowly but surely wearing thin as time went on. He could have ground the egg into dust using only one finger if he wanted to, but he needed the egg in one solid piece, at least for the moment. Time continued dragging on, and the screaming didn't cease for even a second. Tim's right eye twitched, and in one moment, his sense of good judgment was gone.

Tim dropped his pants, staring angrily at the egg, and began peeing on it. Tim's expression tightened, not just because he was getting relief as piss left his body, but also because the shrill cries of the egg slowly became more docile. In fact, as Tim continued, he could have sworn the screaming had turned into singing. Singing he could barely hear as he sprayed his piss over the egg.

"ㇸ6Come seek us where our voices sound, we cannot sing above the ground. An hour long you'll have to look, and recover what we took.ㇸ6"

The voices sounded like an angelic choir, incredibly different from the demonic screeching that had plagued Tim's ears for the last hour or so. The song repeated until Tim had finished, the singing slowly turning back into wailing. Tim shook himself off, pulled up his pants, and took a brief moment to clean himself up, before heading out of his room to go and look for Harry.

* * *

"There you are, Harry, I've been looking for you everywhere…" Tim stated, finding Harry seated with Hermione at the front of the Library, the two of them alone and practically buried in books.

"Good evening, Professor." Hermione smiled.

"Evening, Miss Granger." Tim smiled back.

"Oh, hello, Professor." Harry greeted, though his tone was rushed, and it was obvious he was more focused on the books he had in front of him.

"Listen, you can put all that away. No one's ever learned anything from a book." Tim told his students, lowering his voice into a whisper. "I figured it out. The Second Task will be at the Black Lake, and we have to find something 'they'," Tim paused, making air-quotes with his hands, before continuing, "took. I'd recommend using the Bubble-Head Charm or the Bubble-Trap Jinx, 'cause you'll need to be able to stay underwater for an hour."

"Sir, we won't be learning the Bubble-Head Charm until next year." Hermione explained.

"And I'm not very good at using the Bubble-Trap Jinx." Harry added.

"Well then…" Tim sighed, throwing his arms up into the air. "I don't know. See if you can rent a scuba suit or something. I'm heading into Hogsmeade tomorrow to get something to help me out. Even _I_ can't hold my breath for an hour."

"Don't worry, Professor." Hermione assured him. "We'll think of something."

"Alright, well good luck to you two. Remember, don't let anyone know we're helping each other, or we'll both be disqualified. And, not that I care about him, but Fredric might get disqualified too." Tim turned to leave the Library, opening the door, surprised to find McGonagall standing on the other side. "Professor McGonagall, hi!" Tim greeted the older witch with a smile.

"Hi, Tim." She greeted, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "You wouldn't happen to know where Miss Granger is, would you? Dumbledore is asking to see her in his office."

"Yeah, she's in here." Tim said, moving aside so that McGonagall could see Hermione seated next to Harry.

"Ah, great." McGonagall smiled. "Miss Granger," she called, raising her voice just a little. "Professor Dumbledore has requested that you come see him in his office right away."

"Yes, Professor McGonagall." Hermione smiled, regrettably leaving Harry to figure out how to survive the Second Task by himself.

McGonagall then turned to Tim. "You should try and get a good night's sleep for tomorrow."

Tim nodded. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I'll see you tomorrow…"

McGonagall smiled, nodding in kind. "See you tomorrow, Tim…"

* * *

Crimson thunder roared through the sky, reflecting on the water and making it look more like blood. Icy wind brushed against the bodies of the five Champions, each of them looking down into the water below them. Three platforms had been constructed in the center of the Black Lake, with the Champions all standing at the bottom of the central one. Tim's naked body stood out, even despite all the other Champions wearing reduced clothing for the challenge.

The Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and Hogwarts students all stood on the other platforms, their eyes keenly on the Champions. Behind the Champions were Dumbledore, Snape, Maxime, Karkaroff, Fudge and Bartemius, who all surveyed the Black Lake as well.

After a moment, Dumbledore walked up to Tim. "Tim, are you sure you're ready for this?" he asked.

"Hell yeah, Dumblebro! I went to the Woolworths in Hogsmeade _just_ so I could get this…" Tim smiled, waving around an empty plastic bag in his left hand. "This is all I need to win."

"Alright, if you're sure…" Dumbledore nodded, turning to address the students around him. "Welcome, everyone, to the Second Task! Last night, something our Champions value exceptionally was taken from them, and is being held at the bottom of the Black Lake."

Bartemius continued from where Dumbledore had stopped. "The Champions will need to venture to the bottom of the Black Lake and retrieve their treasure in order to complete the Second Task. They must complete this task within an hour at the latest, or their treasure will be lost forever. Champions will undertake this challenge at the same time and will be scored individually based on how quickly they are able to return to this central platform with themselves and their treasure intact."

Cedric and Fleur flexed their fingers, running them along their wands, obviously opting to use some form of Magic to complete the task. Victor cracked his neck before running his fingers along his wand too. Harry swallowed audibly, before haphazardly downing the dried Gillyweed he'd purchased from a shop in Hogsmeade, hoping with all his might that it would work as intended. Tim simply breathed in, reeling the plastic bag out in front of him, before blowing a huge breath of air into it with his powerful lungs. The bag filled up almost instantly, and Tim clasped his hand around the handles, sealing the air inside.

"At the sound of the whistle, the five of you may jump into the Black Lake and begin the Second Task." Dumbledore explained. Moments later, a whistle sounded, and four Champions dived into the Black Lake, Tim remaining standing on the platform. "Tim, what are you doing? The Second Task has begun!" Dumbledore urged.

Tim turned back to the elderly wizard. "I'm not getting in the water until you start singing." He told him.

"What?"

"Go on, old man… Sing for me… You know what I want to hear…"

Dumbledore suddenly found himself blushing. "T-Tim, I can't-"

"Do it."

Dumbledore sighed, a microphone materializing in his hand, not unlike the one Myron Wagtail had sung into at the Yule Ball. "ㇸ6Holy Diver! You've been down too long in the midnight sea! Oh, what's becoming of me?!ㇸ6"

Tim nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! Alright, Dumbledude! Keep that up! Sing the whole song!" he cheered, his tone suddenly becoming more menacing. "I'll know if you stop…" and with that, Tim dived off the platform and into the Black Lake.

The almost icy water hit Tim with reverence as he swam down into the lake, Dio's 'Holy Diver' as sung by Dumbledore continuing in the Professor's head. He took a moment to compose himself, feeling his nipples become more erect from the cold. Tim began moving forward, thick lines of seaweed protruding up towards the surface, other kinds of algae coating the ground below.

As Tim moved into a much larger area, a small sickly green creature, a Grindylow darted out from behind a rock, charging at Tim. Tim drew in some air from his plastic bag, before charging forward, grabbing the tentacle-laden creature's head, and smearing its body onto the rocks below. As more and more Grindylows started to appear from almost out of nowhere, Tim decided it best to take a smaller path as to not waste more time than he could afford. Tim headed left, making short work of every Grindylow he came across.

Tim passed a rather large rock formation, glimpsing the form of a rather beautiful-looking feminine creature that swam ahead of him with mystique and grace. Continuing onward, he noticed the number of Grindylows that appeared to impede his progress had once again increased dramatically. Tim tried his best to push his lust for battle down, deciding to outmaneuver the Grindylows instead of attack them.

Tim took another breath of air from his bag as he pressed onward, noticing that, ahead of him, a school of Grindylows had converged atop a cliff, and had begun pushing rocks off of it to obscure Tim's path. Tim increased his speed, and was able to make it past the Grindylows, whose rocks had been caught by the water's resistance.

There was a sudden change in both pressure and temperature as Tim swam even deeper downward through the gaps in the underwater Cliffside. Slowly, the ruins of a castle came into view, and Tim once again quickened his pace. Tim pushed his free arm out in front of him, using his momentum, along with the force of the water to open the doors to the rotting castle.

The castle was devoid of all life, and the smell was absolutely putrid. Regardless, Tim kept moving, keeping an eye out for any signs of movement other than his own. Eventually, Tim had made it to the end of the castle, but couldn't see any way out, until Tim came across some supports for the roof. Once again pulling his hand back, he shot it forward, the eroded wood breaking apart and allowing for Tim to exit.

A light filtered down from above, and Tim swam towards it, stopping when he caught sight of five pale figures chained to the ground beneath him. Tim's eyes widened as he stared down at the bloated faces of his students, and one girl who Tim had never seen before, who, unbeknownst to Tim, was Fleur's sister Gabrielle.

Tim swam down, briefly touching Hermione's face. It was much colder than the water and almost burned as his hand ran across her face.

Suddenly, as if from out of nowhere, a figure barreled towards Tim, however Tim was easily able to move out of the way, turning to see that it was in fact a mermaid who had attempted to charge at him, only she was not as beautiful as Tim had originally thought. Her skin was flaky, and she overall looked to be more fish than woman. The mermaid shrieked, baring her cracked yellow fangs at Tim, whom recognized her voice as being similar to the shrill sounds that had come from the golden egg.

"So, you wanna play, huh?" Tim beckoned the mermaid forward, bubbles of air escaping from his mouth and floating up to the surface. The mermaid charged at Tim, and once again, the Professor was able to easily move out of the way. This time however, Tim grabbed the mermaid's tail and swung her around before throwing her down into the depths of the ruined castle.

Seconds later, the mermaid reemerged, looking absolutely livid, charging at Tim with even more ferocity. This time however, the single mermaid's cries were heard by several others, who all suddenly began closing in on Tim's position, some of them holding tridents within their mangled grasps.

Tim moved left and right, dodging and parrying the blows of various mermaids before he brought up his right leg and kicked one of them in the face, forcing them back a great distance. Tim's fighting spirit was once again roaring inside of him, the handsome young man pulling one of the mermaids toward him by her hair and punching her in the stomach, causing her to cough up some blood and writhe in agony.

Pushing that mermaid away, Tim proceeded to spend several minutes beating all the mermaids to death, sparing only a few. By the time he was finished, the water truly _was_ red. Red with the blood of countless slaughtered mermaids.

"Please…! Stop! No more killing!" One of the mermaids begged.

"Then bring me what is mine!" Tim demanded. The mermaid complied, swimming away from Tim's sight briefly, before returning with Hermione's lifeless body and handing her over to Tim. "Good. Now carry me to the surface!" he ordered.

Once again, the mermaid complied, beckoning another injured mermaid over. Tim smiled, placing Hermione in-between his thighs as the two mermaids carried him up towards the surface.

The fresh air was welcomed by both Tim and Hermione, as the latter suddenly sprang to life, coughing and spluttering. Tim led Hermione over to the platform, the students of Hogwarts cheering viciously. Shakily, the two mermaids swam back down into the depths of the Black Lake as Tim helped Hermione up onto the platform. "Are you alright, Miss Granger?" Tim asked.

Hermione nodded, shivering as Dumbledore and Bartemius appeared, the former handing the young witch a towel to dry herself with. "That was amazing, Tim." Dumbledore smiled.

"Yes, yes!" Bartemius agreed wholeheartedly. "You were down there for less than ten minutes, and to return already with your treasure, truly amazing!"

"Thanks. You did well too, Dumbledude. I could hear you. You hit those high notes like a pro." Tim smiled, his eyes veering across the platform and meeting those of Fleur Delacour, who seemed to be staring into the water in a state of shock, some of her fellow Beauxbatons students comforting her. "What's up with her?" Tim asked.

"Miss Delacour was subdued by a school of Grindylows and forced to return to the surface. So she's unfortunately been eliminated from the Second Task."

"I don't think that's why she's upset…" Tim mumbled, thinking back to the bodies in suspended animation, floating in the depths of the Black Lake. Each of them must have 'belonged' to a certain Champion, much like how Hermione was chosen as Tim's 'treasure' for the challenge. Tim realized suddenly that the young girl he couldn't recognize had been wearing a Beauxbatons uniform, and thought perhaps that the girl was Fleur's treasure. "I'll be right back!" Tim called, moving away from the platform and diving back down into the Black Lake.

Tim was much quicker this time, returning to the other suspended 'treasures' within only a few seconds. His reappearance caused discomfort amongst the surviving mermaids. Of course, they all now knew who they were dealing with, and because of this, the mermaids had become quite submissive towards him. They didn't, after all, want their entire species to become extinct.

"Y-you're back!" a mermaid cried. "D-did we displease you…?"

"I need the blonde one." Tim said bluntly, pointing to the youngest girl.

"Y-yes, o-of course… whatever you want…" the mermaid shivered, swimming over and freeing the girl's legs. Tim took the child's hand in his own and swam back up to the surface with her. Just like Hermione, the young blonde suddenly sprang back to life, her eyes opening suddenly.

"Hey there!" Tim greeted charmingly.

Gabrielle's eyes widened, her head darting around feverishly. "Sis! Where's my sister?!" she cried, struggling around in Tim's arms.

"Easy there, kiddo." Tim calmed the girl, leading her over to the platform.

One of the Beauxbatons girls got Fleur's attention, pointing to the young Professor who'd seemed to have saved her younger sister's life.

Fleur moved frantically for the platform's edge, reaching her hand out for her sister who quickly took Fleur's hand. "Gabrielle! You're not hurt, are you?" Fleur choked. Gabrielle shook her head. "I'm so sorry… It was the Grindylows, they attacked me and…" Fleur let out a short puff of air and gave her little sister a hug. "I'm so glad you're okay…!"

Tim made his way back onto the platform, Dumbledore handing him a towel as he spoke to him. "You know, you didn't have to do that." Dumbledore informed him. "They're not in any real danger. As soon as the hour's up, we'd rescue the students that hadn't been saved."

Tim sighed. "You could've told me that in the beginning! What I did basically amounted to nothing then."

"Well you're still the only one that's made it out of the Black Lake so far, and there's still fifty minutes left. So you'll still be in first place. Besides," Dumbledore smiled, motioning Tim to look at Fleur, "I wouldn't say what you did amounted to nothing…"

Fleur stared at Tim, her mouth agape, completely stunned by Tim's selfless act. "You… You saved my sister… You went back into the lake and got her for me…" Fleur suddenly rushed into Tim's arms, eagerly forcing her lips against his and shoving her tongue into his mouth.

Their bodies meshed together, causing flat, wet sounds to emanate as Fleur pressed herself closer to Tim. Many of the other female students watching bit their lips, obviously wishing it was them lucky enough to kiss Tim. After a few moments, Fleur broke the kiss and pulled away.

"I won't forget what you've done today…" Fleur told Tim, breathing heavily, the feeling of having kissed Tim absolutely overwhelming her. She yearned to kiss him again, but fought as hard as she could within herself to keep her composure, especially in front of her classmates.

"I won't forget what you just did either…" Tim licked his lips, smiling at the young woman, before getting up and removing the towel from his body, once again revealing his naked form to all those around him. "Dumblebro," Tim turned to the wizard. "You know I'm not one for waiting around. Tell me how the other Champions go later on, okay?"

"Yes, Tim. Of course." Dumbledore nodded, watching as Tim made his way to the opposite side of the platform, dive back into the lake, and start swimming for the shoreline of the Hogwarts Castle grounds.


	19. Lothario

In the aftermath of the Second Task, the general vibe around Hogwarts had never been livelier. There was one more task to go until the winner of the Triwizard Tournament would be crowned. As of the Second Task, Tim was, of course, in first place, followed by Cedric in second, Krum in third, Harry in fourth, and Fleur in last place. However, Tim was sure that if Fleur hadn't have been forced to retire by the Grindylows down in the Black Lake, that Harry would have been in last place instead. Because of this, Tim was incredibly worried that Harry wouldn't be able to make it to the end, and that mattered more to him than winning a silly tournament.

"Alright," Tim began, sitting down opposite Dumbledore, the two of them alone in Dumbledore's office. "You need to tell me about the Third Task." Tim ordered. Dumbledore went to speak, but Tim cut him off. "I don't want to hear it. I need to know exactly what I'm gonna be facing so I can look after Harry. As much as I want to be surprised and challenged… I need to kill Voldemort more…"

"Very well…" Dumbledore sighed. "But this stays between us…" he muttered, before proceeding to tell Tim everything he knew about the Third Task.

* * *

With the first two tasks of the Triwizard Tournament having been wildly inappropriate (for children, at least) stunts involving dragons, potential death, along with mermaids and potential drowning, Tim was not at all surprised to find the objective of the Third Task was to navigate through a creature-filled maze to find the Tri-Wizard Cup.

Tim had taken to meditating in a secluded area of the Hogwarts Castle. Normally, Tim was always in peak physical and mental condition and so he had no need to meditate, but Tim felt a little uneasy, even with the Third Task still a while away, so he took to meditation to try and regulate his energy and calm his aura. All was going well, until a voice brought him out of his trance-like state.

"Mister Ihansha…" Rita Skeeter purred. "I have to say… you did incredibly well down in the Black Lake."

Tim opened only his right eye, looking up at the blonde reporter. "Thank you," he smiled politely.

"I was rather…" Rita paused, feigning difficulty at finding the right words to say. "Surprised to find that Miss Hermione Granger was your… treasure, for lack of a better word. I'm sure you're aware that Miss Granger went with Durmstrang Champion Viktor Krum to the Yule Ball."

"I am, yes. I was there. Are _you_ aware that I did a _totally_ _epic_ bass solo up on stage with The Pembroke River Family Disaster?"

A sly smile worked its way onto Rita's face. "I am… it certainly is a shame that you don't use your fingers for… other things…"

Tim matched Rita's smile with a smile of his own. "That so…? Maybe _you_ could show me what I should be using them for…?"

"I'd be delighted to…" Rita leaned in closer, planting a kiss on Tim's lips before pulling away. "But… perhaps before that… you could tell me a little bit about your… relationship with Miss Granger…"

"Excuse me?"

Rita shook her head. "I'm not insinuating anything, it's just… I've been asking around, and there've been quite a few sources that say you… favor her… in _certain_ ways. Would you care to comment?"

Tim sighed. "Well it depends what you mean by 'favor'. If… by favoring, you mean rewarding a student when they do something right, then, I _do_ favor Miss Granger. When you have to deal with Slytherins and Hufflepuffs who challenge every word you say, it's nice when a student answers questions correctly and does what they're told in class."

"Is that right? Well, I'm surprised to hear that." Rita said nonchalantly. Tim raised an eyebrow, but Rita giggled, shaking her head. "Don't worry about it." She assured him. "Anyway, I must be getting on, but I'm sure I'll see you another time." And with that, Rita briskly walked off, quickly disappearing out of sight.

* * *

Tim had gotten back into training over the next few days, thinking nothing more about his encounter with Rita Skeeter. That is until one morning during breakfast in the Great Hall. Tim was once again seated naked at the High Table, eating a protein-laden meal, when he was approached by a female student. Generally, all the female students absolutely adored Tim, though there was one exception: Pansy Parkinson, who not only seemed to despise Tim, but also was head over heels for Draco, even though the Slytherin boy had no redeeming qualities whatsoever.

"Morning, Professor~!" she greeted with what Tim knew to be mock kindness.

"Good morning, Miss Parkinson." Tim replied after finishing his mouthful of steak. "Need anything?"

Pansy smirked. "I know that, with you being a _Muggle_ , you probably wouldn't know about it, but there's a magazine called 'Witch Weekly' that's _very_ popular."

"Okay, and I give a damn _because_ …?"

"I just thought you might like to check out the latest issue." She said, faking compassion as she gave a brightly-colored magazine to Tim.

"Listen, if this thing's enchanted to spray crap all over me, I'm gonna rip your throat out." Tim told the girl.

"Oh _no_ , sir. _Nothing_ of the sort…" Pansy sighed, shaking her head. "I just thought you might be interested because Rita Skeeter's written a little article about your 'favorite student'." Pansy suddenly giggled. "I think you might enjoy reading it."

Tim glanced down at the magazine, and when he looked up again, he saw that Pansy had begun walking back to her seat at the Slytherin table. Tim sighed, flipping through the magazine until he reached the center, a small article, or rather an opinion piece (as Tim would soon find), staring back at him. Tim couldn't help but read the title of the article under his breath. "'Hermione Granger: the Bringer of Heartache'…"

' _Hermione Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to have an unhealthy appetite for the male gender. Not only has she been stringing along Harry Potter –_ _'The Boy Who Lived', and Viktor Krum – Champion of last year's Quidditch World Cup, but even one of her teachers at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Tim Ihansha – a handsome man whom many are claiming the Muggle-born witch has a crush on. It cannot be a coincidence that all three men are participants in this year's Triwizard Tournament, the first tournament to occur since 1792. It is in this writer's humble and completely unbiased opinion that this devious Muggle-born witch delights in nothing more than toying with the affections of men, no matter what age they are. My deep and unending sympathy goes out to Harry Potter, Viktor Krum and Tim Ihansha, as I'm sure so do their supporters. Perhaps if one of the three were to win the Triwizard Tournament, they would meet a woman worthy of their love. One can only hope._ '

By the time Tim had finished reading, he realized his heart was beating at an incredible pace. His body was burning, his rage equal to that of a never-ending torrent of fire. Tim's blood boiled as he looked over at Hermione, who was seated at the Gryffindor table and also happened to be reading a copy of the magazine. Tim's head then snapped in the direction of the Slytherin table, his eyes focusing on Pansy, the dog-faced girl watching Hermione with keen interest.

Abandoning his meal, Tim got up from his seat at the High Table and walked over to the Gryffindor table where Hermione was sitting, next to Harry and across from Lavender Brown. "Miss Granger," Tim spoke softly. "Are you alright?"

"Of course." She answered honestly, her voice softening a little. "She's written a load of rubbish. And besides, why should I care what other people think of me?"

"You shouldn't, but Rita shouldn't be allowed to write whatever she wants either. Someone needs to take her down a peg." Tim vocalized. "Don't worry, Miss Granger. I'll take care of this…" Tim assured his student.

"How? What are you going to do?"

"I'm gonna bone Rita Skeeter…" Tim declared.

And bone her he did. Seriously, Rita's intercourse with Tim was the best she had ever had, the whole thing anatomically correct and everything. Even attempting to describe it would be an exercise in futility. In fact, let's just skip to the afterglow.

* * *

Rita moved away from Tim, beads of sweat running down her trembling bosom as she breathed heavily, her naked body hidden beneath the satin sheets. "That was _amazing_ …!" Rita panted. "You might be a Muggle, but you're an absolute _beast_ between the sheets…"

Tim smiled, turning to Rita and flashing his pearly white teeth. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself." Tim's tone suddenly changed. "I'm sure the others will get a kick out of this as well."

Rita raised an eyebrow. "I don't understand."

"Well, you love tearing people down, making them feel like garbage, spreading lies, all for your own amusement, right? That's why you wrote what you did about Miss Granger, isn't it? You humiliate people, so now I think it's time you get a taste of your own medicine. I've recorded this," Tim cleared his throat, " _encounter_ of ours, and I think that it's just _too_ _wonderful_ to keep to ourselves, don't you?"

"I-"

"Don't try and threaten me, Rita." Tim said bluntly. "I'm naked everywhere. I'm okay with my body, but judging by all the makeup you plaster yourself with and the gold teeth and that, you're not. You have to rely on trickery and deceit to get what you want, but _I_ think it's time people saw the _real_ Rita Skeeter. I wonder how the Editor-In-Chief at 'Daily Prophet', your boss Barnabas Cuffe will react when he gets a look at your blotchy skin and puffy va-"

"Okay, _okay_!" Rita blurted. "I'll do anything! Just please! Don't send the video to anyone!" Rita then meekly asked. "But could I maybe keep a copy for myself…?"

Tim's smile returned. "Fine. On one condition: _stay_ _away_ from Miss Granger. If I see _anywhere_ that you've written even _one_ word about her, I'll make you regret it. Is that clear?"

Rita nodded shakily, swallowing audibly. "Y-yes…"

" _Tim_?" a voice asked in disbelief. Both Tim and Rita quickly turned to the entrance to Tim's room, McGonagall standing at the door in shock, her eyes hopelessly drawn to the naked couple who had only a sheet to cover them.

"P-Professor McGonagall, what are you doing here?" Tim asked.

"I came to find you," she uttered softly. "What's going on here? Are you _with_ _her_ now?"

"McGonagall, please listen…" Tim paused. "I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I was really only into you 'cause you've got a hot body. I think the best thing we can do is just be honest with each other, and I really don't see us working out. I hope we can still be friends and not let this get in the way of our professional relationship."

McGonagall just stood in silence, absolutely dumbstruck as she looked at Tim. McGonagall sighed, shaking her head. "Goodbye, Tim." She said simply, before walking off.

"McGonagall!" Tim called, but it was too late.

McGonagall was McGonagone.

* * *

Even though Tim was successful in blackmailing Rita Skeeter, the two ended up spending the night together, Tim's incredible love-making prevailing over any ill will either of them still had towards each other. When morning came however, Tim woke to find himself alone in his bed.

Tim looked around, wiping the sleep out of his eyes as he turned, moving his feet off the bed and hearing a slight crunch as he felt himself step on something small. Tim jerked his leg, lifting it up to find that he had accidentally squashed a Leaf Beetle. Tim sighed in disgust, flicking the insect stain off of his foot. Tim stretched his arms into the air and yawned.

Thinking nothing more of the insect Tim had just crushed, he assumed that Rita had just gone off to go and get some breakfast or something. Getting up off the bed, Tim checked the underside of the mattress, finding the microphone he'd placed to record Rita's voice still intact. Tim then glanced toward the middle corner of the ceiling where his camera was set up and smiled.


	20. The Goblin of Fire

For the first night since the start of the Triwizard Tournament, Hogwarts was quiet. Eerily quiet. The excited chatter of the students could not be heard in the halls or corridors of the old castle, but the familiar commotion was still evident on the edge of the school grounds where the students and staff had gathered to watch the third and final challenge of the tournament.

The familiar Quidditch Pitch had vanished completely, and in its place stood a vast and intimidating hedge maze, which seemed to stretch on out into the highlands. Standing at the entrance were the five Champions, themselves flanked by a semicircular grandstand that had been constructed, the audience sitting in anticipation.

The Hogwarts Amateur Philharmonic was playing a tune to match the festivities of the occasion. The happiness and excitement of the students in the grandstand was a stark contrast to the serious faces of those who were about to enter the maze and take on the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament. Harry's face in particular displayed an expression of dread mixed with nervousness that made him look as though he was moments away from throwing up. He was worried that if his performance in the Black Lake was anything to go by, he may not survive this next challenge. Out of the five Champions preparing to enter the maze, only one had a look of complete calm, even indifference, on his face. This was, of course, the Professor Tim, whose face looked like it was carved out of concrete. Though under his relaxed exterior, Tim was also worried that Harry might not survive the challenge ahead.

The music stopped, pulling Tim from his thoughts. He looked up and saw both Dumbledore and Bartemius walking out from the grandstand to a podium close to where the participants in the tournament were lined up. The elderly wizard waved his hands at the audience to hush the crowd. "Welcome to the Third Task!" Dumbledore shouted. "Earlier this evening, Bartemius placed the Triwizard Cup somewhere within the maze. Only he knows where it resides. The objective for this task is to navigate through the maze and find the Triwizard Cup. The first Champion to touch the cup will be transported back here and will be crowned the winner of the Triwizard Tournament!"

Bartemius smiled. "That's right! Now the Champions' current standing in the tournament will dictate the order in which they will enter the maze. So Tim," Bartemius called.

Tim snapped to attention, saluting the older man. "Ready and erect at your service."

"As you are currently in first place, you will be the first to enter the maze." Bartemius explained, turning then to focus on Cedric and each of the other Champions as he needed. "Cedric Diggory, you will be second. Viktor Krum, third. Harry Potter, fourth. Fleur Delacour, fifth."

The audience applauded as the Champions' names were called out, some obviously cheering harder for others. "Now the maze," Dumbledore began to explain, "will be unlike anything you've ever seen before. Creatures lurk within the maze and will test you in every possible way. If you ever find yourself in danger or wish to retire prematurely from the task, cast Periculum into the air and we will rescue you…" Dumbledore's eyes turned to focus on Tim. "Tim, at the sound of the whistle, you may enter the maze."

Moments later, a whistle sounded, and Tim walked forward into the maze, a shadow casting itself behind him. Tim turned back, finding that the maze had somehow closed off behind him. Not only that, but Tim could no longer hear if any words were being spoken from outside the maze. Tim licked his lips, turning to face the labyrinth he'd found himself in, and began to walk forward.

A layer of mist ran atop the twenty foot tall hedges, a small quiver in the ground causing Tim to stop. Tim observed a small patch of ground in front of him, watching as an epiphyte pillar suddenly rose up from the ground, before gently receding back into it. Tim's expression hardened, the young Professor quickly walking past the broken ground, noticing another epiphyte pillar breaking through the ground up ahead. Moving past the epiphyte pillar, Tim found himself unable to continue forward, a hedge blocking his way. Tim turned to the right – his right, and continued moving forward at a quickened pace.

Tim began zigzagging all the way through the maze, covering as much ground as he could. He had no idea at which point the other Champions would begin their treks into the maze, but with Harry in fourth place, Tim wasn't sure whether or not it would be a good idea for him to waste time waiting around for Harry. Then again, Tim figured, with Harry being the second-to-last person to enter the maze, the young boy would probably attempt to rush through it to make up for any lost time. And if that were the case, he could just take a leisurely stroll through the maze and eventually cross paths with Harry at some point.

Tim slowed right down, carelessly walking as he made his way through the maze, not even really minding where he ended up. If he came to a dead end, he simply made his way back and took an alternate path. He did find it strange though that Dumbledore told him that the maze was 'creature-infested', as Tim hadn't yet come across any creatures. Until, that is, he came across a path, straight and narrow, in the middle of which, stood a magnificent beast.

A sphinx.

The sphinx towered over Tim, a calm expression almost etched onto her human-like face. The creature had long auburn-colored hair which flowed down across her back, the rest of her body akin to that of a large lion, fur colored a white gold covered her body. Her claws looked sharp and deadly.

"Aren't _you_ a big kitty…" Tim smiled, slowly walking forward. "I don't have to fight you, do I? You've got a really pretty face, and I'd hate to scar it."

The sphinx giggled in a very curt manner. "Only if you fail to answer my riddle."

"Riddle?"

The sphinx nodded. "You're on the right path. If you answer correctly, I'll let you by. If not, we fight. Of course, if you'd much rather leave then that's fine too."

Tim shook his head. "What's the riddle?"

The sphinx purred just a little, stretching her form just a tad before she began.

" _Think of the person who lives in disguise, dealing in secrets and tells only lies. Tell me what's always the last thing to mend, the middle of middle and end of the end_? _Now give me the sound often heard during the search for a hard-to-find word. Then string them together and answer me this: which creature would you be unwilling to kiss_?"

Tim licked his lips, looking down at the ground as he thought about the riddle. Eventually, he just looked up at the sphinx and shrugged. "Truthfully, I don't know. But I'll tell you who I _wouldn't_ be unwilling to kiss…" Tim whispered, walking forward and gently running one of his hands along the sphinx's fur. "You…" he smiled. "You are quite beautiful, you know…"

The sphinx blushed, her statuesque expression finally faltering. "Th-thank you…"

Tim smiled. "What's your name? A beautiful thing like you has to have a name, right?"

"T-Teleia…" the sphinx stammered.

"Gorgeous…" Tim continued to smile, shaking his head just a little, before leaning up and gently pressing his lips against Teleia's, who seemed quite willing to accept the young Professor's oral embrace.

Teleia pressed her front and back paws deeper into the ground, urging herself closer to Tim, slowly sliding her tongue against his. Tim moaned softly, reaching up and cupping the sphinx's head in his hands. The two of them spent several minutes making out, the only thing mattering to either of them was each other and their carnal desires.

Briefly breaking the kiss, Teleia whispered "You're a really good kisser…"

"Prof… Professor?" a quiet voice sounded.

Tim willed himself away from the sphinx, turning to see Harry looking at him. Not even the young boy could deny the attraction he felt towards Tim in that moment, seeing his affection towards the sphinx.

"Harry!" Tim smiled, stroking Teleia's side. "Geez, s'it been that long already?" Tim then turned back to the sphinx. "Listen, Teleia, I'd really like to continue this, but Harry and I need to get moving. Do you think you'd be able to let us pass?" Tim asked softly, continuing to stroke Teleia's fur.

"Of course…" Teleia bowed, kissing Tim on the forehead before moving aside and allowing the two of them to pass. "Be careful though," she warned them. "There are other creatures within the maze, though none as beautiful as I."

"I believe that…" Tim muttered, looking back at Harry. "Come along, Harry."

"Thank you very much!" Harry smiled at the sphinx, dashing forward to meet with Tim.

As the two of them reached the end of the narrow stretch, they entered into a clearing. The clearing itself was rather open and almost resembled an arena in shape. Aside from two large rocks and a few rows of spiky prickly plants, there didn't seem to be anything of interest. That is until a rather hoarse yell directed Tim and Harry's eyes to the other side of the clearing.

"Tim! Harry!" Cedric shouted, bound to the maze hedges by vines, the Hufflepuff struggling in vain. Tim's eyes widened, wondering how in the Hell _Cedric_ was able to progress further into the maze than him.

"Cedric!" Harry shouted, the young boy starting to rush over to him.

"No! Don't! It's a-" Cedric started to explain as two of the hedge walls lowered into the ground, revealing two Blast-Ended Skrewts. Harry stopped dead in his tracks, completely paralyzed with fear. The clearing had become a little bigger because of the lowered hedges, but of course now there were two massive creatures that Tim and Harry had to contend with.

Harry tightened his grip on his wand. " _Stupefy_!" he shouted, throwing several shots of red light at one of the Blast-Ended Skrewts with his wand. Unfortunately, the Stunning Spell had no effect on it, all nine shots simply bouncing off its body. The Blast-Ended Skrewt charged at Harry, knocking the young boy to the ground.

"Think before you attack! Don't get careless!" Tim berated, easily dodging the other Blast-Ended Skrewt as it barreled forward and collided with the surrounding hedges. Tim's heart was still racing from his brief sexual encounter with Teleia, so it was easy for him to get into the swing of things. Tim ran over, pulling Harry to his feet by the back of his shirt.

The two Blast-Ended Skrewts came together in a single file, slowly making their way over to Harry and Tim. Harry looked around desperately, his eyes catching on one of the rocks. Harry threw his hand out, performing the correct wand movements as he began the incantation for the Levitation Charm. " _Wingardium Leviosa_!" Harry shouted, the rock rising into the air. Harry then controlled the rock through the air, building up a considerable amount of momentum before launching it at the closest Blast-Ended Skrewt. Once again though, Harry's efforts failed to achieve anything as the rock simply cracked in two, the Blast-Ended Skrewt not damaged at all.

"Damn it, Harry! You're throwing junk out there!" Tim snapped, before sighing. "Look, just… just leave it to me…"

Tim broke into a sprint, easily closing the distance between himself and the Blast-Ended Skrewts. Bringing both his hands back, Tim curled them into fists before throwing them forward, his fists colliding with the first Blast-Ended Skrewt, piercing its body armor and blowing it back into the other, causing both to topple over onto their backs.

With their undersides exposed, Tim jumped high into the air before bringing both hands up behind his back and clasping them together, performing a double axe handle on the first, causing the body of the Blast-Ended Skrewt to practically rip apart and explode.

The second Blast-Ended Skrewt wriggled its legs in a desperate attempt to get back on its feet, but of course it was unable to. Tim placed his hands on the creature's side, grabbing onto a secure piece of its body armor, before throwing the Blast-Ended Skrewt into the air and out of sight.

"Cedric!" Harry shouted, rushing over to the Hufflepuff's bound body. Pointing his wand at the vines, Harry shouted " _Reducto_!" and successfully freed Cedric from the hedges as the vines were hit by the Reductor Curse.

Tim breathed heavily. Not because he was tired, no, not at all. It's because he now had Cedric to contend with. If it had have been up to Tim, he would have left Cedric there and continued onward with Harry. After all, Harry needed to win the Triwizard Tournament, which of course couldn't be guaranteed if Cedric was around.

"Thanks," Cedric smiled, his eyes directed more at Tim than Harry. Cedric brushed himself down and retrieved his wand. "Listen, this whole tournament's become a complete mess. I think the best thing to do is just work together to find the cup. It doesn't matter who wins out of the three of us. It'll still be a victory for Hogwarts."

"You mean you don't want the prize money? O-or the fame?" Harry asked.

Cedric paused, looking up towards the sky. "I did… at first. But everything's just been so crazy, I'd be happy just to get out of here in one piece, you know?"

"Yeah," Harry exhaled, "I know."

Tim sighed, rolling his eyes begrudgingly. "Alright, Fredric. Come on. Don't lag behind."

"Yes, sir." Cedric nodded, he and Harry following Tim as the three of them made their way out of the clearing and back into a narrow walkway.

There was a fork in the road, the path moving into two different directions. From where the three of them were standing, there seemed to be two lights at the end of each path. One an orangey-red, the other a whitish-blue.

"Which direction do you s'pose we go?" Cedric asked.

"Neither." Tim told them. "You've both already shown your penchant for getting into trouble. You two stay here and I'll check things out."

Both Cedric and Harry nodded, Tim taking the path leading to the right, the orange flame at the end of it. Tim sped up, moving through to the end of the path and into another clearing.

This clearing was not unlike the one that contained the Blast-Ended Skrewts, but instead of housing a collection of rocks and plants, there was only one large boulder in the center. Atop it was a bright orange fire.

"I found it…" Tim spoke breathlessly. Though it wasn't an object he was staring at. It was a creature, a goblin, but its body looked as though it was made of pure fire. "So… _you're_ the Goblin of Fire…"

The Goblin's orange eyes burned bright, as if staring into Tim's soul. Silently, the Goblin reached an arm out and beckoned for Tim to come forward and fight him.

Without a word exchanged between them, Tim charged forward, punching the Goblin in the chin. Surprisingly, although the Goblin's head snapped back, the rest of its body didn't even budge. Tim's eyes widened, pulling away and quickly jabbing the Goblin several times in the chest.

The Goblin grabbed Tim's hands, fire coiling up the Professor's arms. Tim drew his arms back, pulling the Goblin towards him before kicking him away.

The Goblin toppled to the ground, its flames diminishing just a little. Tim jumped off the boulder, aiming to attack the Goblin, but the creature rolled out of the way, itself break-falling, recovering quickly and kicking Tim in the chest.

Tim's body smacked up against the hedges, suspended for a few moments, before falling to the ground. Tim got up, quickly running his left hand along his chest and smiling. "You know, I gotta say… You're doing a pretty good job… I'm actually a little winded." Tim felt his heart beat with more rapidness. He was excited. The Goblin of Fire was the first worthy opponent that Tim had faced since arriving at Hogwarts. "Alright, let's say that the first round was a tie. It's time for round two!"

Tim once again charged at the Goblin, throwing a fierce flurry of punches and kicks, each of them landing with utmost precision. The Goblin staggered back, clearly outmatched by the handsome man who had only just begun to fight seriously. The Goblin growled, jumping forward and going on the offensive, matching Tim blow for blow.

"Tim, what are you doing?" Cedric asked. The Hufflepuff had heard the noise and rushed to find out what was going on.

Tim parried a blow from the Goblin, keeping himself focused as he spoke to Cedric. "I found it. The Goblin of Fire, right?"

"Uh… no… You're thinking of the _Goblet_ of Fire. _We're_ after the _Triwizard Cup_ …"

Tim sighed, jumping back and turning to the Hufflepuff. " _Really_? Damn it…" Tim turned to the Goblin. "Sorry, mate. I thought you were something else."

The Goblin of Fire rolled its eyes in disdain, turning away from Tim.

Inexplicably, fury welled up inside Tim, a never-ending torrent of fire, much like that of the Goblin's. By the time the Goblin was able to sense Tim's bloodlust, it was too late. Its fate was sealed. Tim turned and with a ferocious roar, drove his hand right through the back of the Goblin's throat, killing him instantly. Tim exhaled. "Well… round two goes to me… Anyway, I guess the other path must have the Triwizard Cup then. Where's Harry?"

"I think he's still waiting for us, sir."

"Alright, well let's head back." Tim motioned for Cedric to once again follow his lead, the two of them quickly leaving the clearing and meeting back up with Harry at the fork in the road. "It's the other one." Tim told Harry carelessly.

"Professor, are you alright?" Harry asked, concerned by Tim's appearance, his normally perfect body having been afflicted with scars from his battle against the Goblin of Fire.

"It's just blood, Harry. Calm down." Tim sighed.

"B-blood…? Then why is it gold?" the inquisitive young wizard asked.

"Come on. It's this way." Tim ignored Harry's question, leading the three of them down the other path, where a faint blue light waited for them.

The hedges rustled as Tim moved, breaking into a light jog and making sure that Harry and Cedric were able to keep up. As they reached the end of the path, the Triwizard Cup in sight of all three combatants, both Harry's and Cedric's hearts started to race. The Triwizard Cup gleamed atop a rock, almost as if it was teasing the Champions with its appearance.

Tim glanced at the cup, before turning to Harry, who almost seemed hesitant to make his way forward. "Go on, Harry."

Harry turned to Cedric. "Y-you take it…"

"What?" Cedric asked. "No, you take it. You told me about the dragons."

Tim swallowed. "You take it, Harry." He urged, unsure of what would happen if Cedric was to grab the cup and win instead of him.

"Why don't we all touch it?" Harry suggested. "We all made it here together, and we're all representing Hogwarts."

"Alright," Cedric smiled. "Sounds good."

Tim sighed, fighting within to not just grab the cup for himself. He was actually getting quite nervous, though he refused to show it on his perfect face. He would have preferred that Harry just take the Triwizard Cup for himself instead of offering it up to both himself and Cedric as well, as Tim wasn't sure what would happen if all three of them were to win the tournament. Still, it was better than just _Cedric_ winning on his own.

Tim, Harry and Cedric walked in a line towards the cup, stopping as Harry spoke. "Ready? Let's do it on the count of three. One, two, _three_!"

The three Champions reached out, each grabbing a part of the cup. In an instant, the cup, along with Tim and the others had vanished from the maze, feeling themselves pulled to a new destination.

Tim and the two boys hit the ground hard, expecting to hear the fanfare of the Hogwarts Amateur Philharmonic along with wild cheers from student and teacher alike. Instead, they found themselves disoriented and in a completely unfamiliar environment.

"Is everyone okay?" Tim asked, springing to his feet as Harry and Cedric slowly got up, obviously shaken by what had happened. For the first time, Tim really observed his surroundings, taking in every minute detail. They were in an old-looking cemetery, surrounded by ominous tombstones. The moon was blocked from view by imposing gray clouds, and the ground was shrouded in fog, which made it hard for Tim to see very far. Despite this however, Tim could still make out what looked like a Church or country manor in the distance.

"The Triwizard Cup is a Portkey…" Cedric said, who had regained his composure before Harry, and who he was now helping off the ground.

"Of course it is, Fredric. Didn't you hear Dumbledude? It was supposed to take us back to outside the maze." Tim sighed.

"This place looks familiar…" Harry mumbled, who was now examining a nearby grave. The Tombstone read 'Here lies Tom Riddle. 1905 – 1943'.

"No one cares, Harry." Tim exclaimed. "I'll go take a look around…" Tim told his students. "Stay here, and _whatever_ you do, don't step on a crack, or you'll break your mother's back." At that, Tim bounded off into the foggy night like a mystic gazelle of liberty.

"I love that man…" Cedric whispered.

"What did you say?" Harry asked, the younger boy now stepping away from the grave of Tom Riddle Sr.

"Nothing. Never mind…" Cedric replied hurriedly. Luckily for Cedric, the sky was dark so Harry couldn't see him blushing.

All of a sudden, Harry cried out as a searing pain shot through his head. Instinctively, Harry reached up, running his fingers across his scar. It was so hot, almost like a red hot branding iron was pressed against it.

"What's wrong, Harry? Are you hurt?" Cedric asked, startled by his companion's sudden outburst. Although Harry wanted to reply, the pain was just too overwhelming for him. Eventually, the young wizard collapsed, powerless to do anything except writhe around on the floor in pain.

From a nearby crypt, a hunched figure walked towards the two young wizards. As the figure got closer, the boys saw that whoever it was carried a small bundle in their arms.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Cedric yelled aggressively, pointing his wand at the Figure.

The Figure, a short, grotesque and almost rat-like man, didn't say anything. After a few moments of silence, a meek voice emanating from the small bundle whispered " _Kill the spare_ …"

At that moment, Harry struggled to his feet and whined " _No_ …! _Don't_ kill _Cedric_!", but his pathetic pleas fell on deaf ears.

The Figure raised his wand at Cedric, who was beginning to stumble back defensively, a single incantation escaping his lips. " _Avada Kedavra_!" He shouted, a jet of green light exploding from the tip of his wand and striking Cedric squarely in the chest. The young wizard dropped to the ground like a marionette that had its strings cut.

" _No!_ " Harry yelled, tears streaming from his eyes. "You killed him! _You_ _killed Cedric_!"

" _Petrificus Totalus_!" The Figure yelled, Harry finding his arms snapping to his sides, unable to move. The Figure smiled at Harry before turning around and conjuring a cauldron in front of him. Harry could only watch in horror and confusion as the cauldron filled with water, a fire lighting underneath it.

" _Now, Wormtail_! _Now_!" the meek voice called again.

As the cauldron began to bubble, the Figure suddenly stepped forward, unwrapping the bundle – a horrific-looking Lilliputian man, the body falling into the cauldron with a splash.

The Figure, who Harry took to be the one called Wormtail, turned to face Harry for a moment, before raising his wand once more and pointing it at the grave of Tom Riddle Sr. "Bone of the father, unknowingly given…" he began to chant, the ground slowly opening up as a fine dust, remnants of Tom Riddle Sr., swirled up and into the cauldron. Wormtail sighed ecstatically, reaching into his coat and retrieving a small knife. "Flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed…"

Harry's eyes widened in fear as Wormtail drew the knife across his own skin, before digging it in deeper. Wormtail cried out in agony, the dull little knife unable to cut through the bone. Wormtail screamed even louder, trying harder to force the knife through his arm.

Eventually, with a lot of effort, Wormtail was able to drive the knife right through his hand, causing it to fall off his body and into the cauldron.

Unable to do anything else, Harry widened his eyes in fear. Wormtail breathed heavily, a low, almost demonic growl escaping his dry misshapen lips, before he turned to Harry, drawing the same knife across Harry's left cheek. Through clenched teeth, Harry screamed as loud as he could. "Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken…" Wormtail groaned. Harry's blood clung to the knife, gently running down the blade. Quickly, Wormtail rushed back over to the cauldron, flicking the knife over the top, blood spilling into it. "And now, after thirteen years… The Dark Lord shall rise again!"

The cauldron bubbled viciously, before a bright red fire burst forth, consuming the cauldron. The flames danced as black smoke rose into the sky, swirling around in the air, becoming thicker and more pronounced. Harry's scar continued to burn, the young boy unable to take his eyes off the figure of smoke that was slowly becoming more human.

The smoke wrapped and tightened, becoming almost like clothes on a slowly-growing man, who seemed to be holding himself in an almost fetal-like position.

A few moments later, the figure landed, adorned in a black smoke-like cloak, but otherwise completely naked. He reached up, instinctively running his hands across his head, as if to feel around for hair, but found none. He brought his hands down, running them across his eyelids and feeling an incredibly elongated nose. He opened his eyes, the irises a deep blood red. He slowly flexed his fingers and wiggled his toes, becoming attuned to the sensations of his new body.

"M-Master…" Wormtail stuttered.

Voldemort turned slowly, looking down at his servant. "Give me my wand, Wormtail…" Voldemort whispered, his voice akin to that of a snake's hiss.

Wormtail nodded, submitting as he shakily gave his master the wand he had used to kill Cedric only a few moments ago.

"Very good…" Voldemort mused, holding the wand aloft in his hand. He seemed to be more focused on the hand holding the wand than he did the actual wand. "I could have done without this long a nose though, Wormtail…"

"S-sorry, Master…"

Voldemort licked his lips. "Never mind that now… I'll get used to it… Just hold out your arm…" he ordered. Wormtail went to hold out his bloody stump of an arm but Voldemort hissed at him. "The _other_ arm you fool…!"

Once again, Wormtail easily submitted to his master's wishes, holding out his other arm – the one which had the mark of a serpent, the Dark Mark, etched into his skin. Voldemort touched the tip of his wand to the mark, the color darkening, becoming more embedded in Wormtail's flesh.

Moments later, the sky darkened, the image of a human skull appearing amongst the gray clouds. It stayed there for a few moments, until the mouth of the skull opened, spewing out a black mist that seemed to head straight for the graveyard. The mist touched down, swirling around the area before fading away, several cloaked and masked figures standing where the mist had touched.

"Welcome, my followers, my friends… Thank you for coming…" Voldemort smiled. "I cannot express how," Voldemort paused, his smile shifting to a menacing, almost violent expression. " _Angry_ I am at your failure to find me! To revive me!" Voldemort went into an almost blind rage, pulling off the masks of his followers one by one. "Patrem Crabbe! Walden Macnair! Apogonos Avery! Lunctus Nott! Gite Goyle!" Voldemort suddenly stopped, staring at the one person whom still wore a mask. "Not even…" Voldemort paused, sounding genuinely disappointed as he ripped off the person's mask. "Lucius Malfoy…!"

Each of the men staggered back, Harry recognizing some as the fathers of some of his Slytherin classmates, and one to have been Buckbeak's appointed executioner from one year ago.

"Take a look around!" Voldemort shouted. "I want you to look at each other, so you all know how pathetic you are. But at least… when I called, you came, and for that… I am grateful. There will be those, followers of mine, who are not present here, that I will not be so willing to forgive…" Voldemort turned quickly, walking over to Cedric's corpse. "Such a plain boy…" he teased, gently nudging Cedric's head with one of his feet.

"Don't touch him!" Harry yelled through clenched teeth.

Voldemort flinched for a brief moment, having almost forgotten Harry was there, held by Wormtail's Full Body-Bind Curse. But hearing Harry's voice caused the new blood flowing through Voldemort to boil. How _dare_ he tell him what to do! Voldemort then brought his foot back and kicked Cedric roughly several times in the chest. "You thought I forgot about you, didn't you Harry?" Voldemort asked with a sneer. "No… I've just been saving you," Voldemort licked his lips almost predatorily. "That's all." Without even using his wand, Voldemort lifted the Full Body-Bind Curse from Harry, the young wizard dropping to the ground. "Pick up your wand, Potter! Let's see what schoolboy spells you have up your sleeve!" Voldemort shouted. "I assume Dumbledore taught you how to Duel, yes?" Voldemort asked quickly.

Suddenly, a voice came from across the land. "No… _I_ did…"

"Who said that?!"

The revving of a motorbike caught everybody off-guard. Voldemort turned, his movements erratic as he and everyone else tried to find the source of the noise. Finally, Voldemort's eyes widened, catching sight of a man astride a Triumph Motorbike, holding a broadsword in his right hand, riding down a mountain towards him. Voldemort was only just able to move out of the way as the assailant brought his sword above his head and swung it at the dark wizard. Although Voldemort was able to dodge, Nott was not so lucky as the broadsword was able to slice through his neck like warm butter.

"No way…" Harry muttered.

Nott dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes, the motorbike-riding swordsman throwing his sword high into the air before diving off the bike, the bike continuing to careen as it collided with Avery, killing him.

Tim landed, skidding on the ground and turning to face Voldemort. "You'll _pay_ for what you've done!" Tim declared.

" _You_ …!" Voldemort bellowed. "I thought I killed you!"

"You thought _wrong_!" Tim shouted, charging forward and moving a hand into his pocket, pulling out a ton of glitter and throwing it in Voldemort's face.

Voldemort reeled back in minor discomfort as his face was struck with glitter, a slight stinging sensation in his eyes.

"You look sparkly and gay now!" Tim chuckled.

"No I do _not_!" Voldemort roared, drawing his wand quickly in anger. Voldemort pointed his wand forward, hoping to hit Tim with the Killing Curse. " _Avada_ _Kedavra_!" He cried.

Unfortunately, with Voldemort's vision obscured by glitter, his aim was severely off, the Killing Curse hitting not Tim, but Macnair instead. Macnair dropped to the ground instantly, just as Cedric had done.

"You missed me, Morty!" Tim taunted. Voldemort howled, temporarily discarding his wand to wipe his face free of glitter.

"You don't pronounce the 'T' in my name!" Voldemort yelled.

"I'll do whatever I want!" Tim shouted back, dodging another one of Voldemort's Killing Curses. Tim's feet slid along the damp ground, making sure to keep eye contact with Voldemort. "What's wrong? Still not used to that new body yet?!" Tim teased, running forward with incredible vigor. Concentrating all of his energy to his point of attack, the young Professor leaped into the air, striking Voldemort with an incredible uppercut to the chin.

Voldemort's head snapped back, the force of the blow propelling the dark wizard through the air, before landing on the muddy ground with a thud. Wormtail's eyes widened, and he quickly rushed to Voldemort's side. "Master, let me help you-"

"Get off me, Wormtail!" Voldemort yelled, pushing his servant away as he got up, brushing himself down before looking at Tim. "I'd be a fool not to notice how much stronger you've gotten, but if you think you can beat me at your level, you're sorely mistaken." Voldemort smiled. Lucius and Patrem noticed that Tim seemed to be distracted, focusing only on Voldemort, and so both wizards raised their wands, ready to attack. "Lucius! Patrem!" Voldemort roared, causing the two of them to stop. " _What_ do you _think_ you're _doing_?"

"M-Master…" Patrem mumbled. "He was distracted, we-"

" _You_ thought you would intervene?!" Voldemort snapped. "It's taken you thirteen years to grow spines and fight for me, so why not wait a little longer and leave the Muggle and the boy to me!"

"Yes, my lord." Lucius bowed.

"If you must amuse yourselves, play with the corpse of the spare. Otherwise, keep still and do nothing. Harry Potter and Tim Ihansha are _mine_ to finish!"

"I can't take you seriously with all that glitter on your face." Tim chuckled. "But if you think that this is even close to what I can _really_ do, _you're_ the one that's mistaken. If anything, I've gotten weaker by hanging around these school kids, but even if I was weaker, I'd still be strong enough to take you down."

In one instant, Tim disappeared, and in the next, he reappeared, less than an inch away from Voldemort. Voldemort's eyes widened. "How did you…?"

"Afterimage." Tim told him, before punching the dark wizard in the stomach. Voldemort's whole body shook as Tim's fist made contact with his form, silver blood spilling from his mouth.

Voldemort recoiled, hissing at Tim and tightening his grip on his wand. " _Avada Kedavra_!" he roared, throwing his arm forward at point-blank range. Tim ducked, moving forward and striking Voldemort's elbow, causing the Killing Curse to veer off into the sky, hitting a passing crow.

With lightning-quick movement, Tim returned to his standing position, turning and kicking Voldemort in the stomach. Voldemort stepped back, dropping his wand and clutching his stomach as he started heaving and gagging, silver blood spilling onto the ground. Voldemort shivered, not used to his body's limits, especially in the face of an adversary as awesome as Tim.

Tim stepped back, allowing Voldemort to catch his breath and retrieve his wand.

"Tim! What are you doing?!" Harry shouted.

Tim turned to the young boy, an unmistakably sadistic look on the Professor's face. One unlike anything Harry had ever seen before. "I'm not gonna kill him yet, Harry. He needs to suffer for what he's done."

"What are you talking about?! He killed Cedric! You should destroy him while you can-"

"No!" Tim yelled. "He killed my sister, Jemma. And for that, I'm gonna make sure he suffers for it…"

Harry's eyes widened. "Y-your sister…?"

Voldemort raised his head and smiled, showing his blood-stained teeth. "You needn't worry, Tim. You won't be without her anymore… You'll see her soon… _Avada_ _Kedavra_!" He roared. Tim once again managed to dodge the Killing Curse, but Voldemort switched up his tactics, nonverbally conjuring a giant serpent made of fire to attack Tim.

Tim was only just barely able to avoid the giant snake which lunged at him, colliding with the ground and bursting into a great fire, knocking Tim off his feet.

" _Tim_!" Harry shouted, attempting to rush to Tim's aid. However Voldemort used the Stunning Spell to knock Harry to the ground. Just as Tim got to his knees, he felt Voldemort's wand press against his forehead.

"You did well, Tim…" Voldemort whispered harshly. "Your sister would be proud of how you fought, though it amounted to nothing in the end…" he smirked. Voldemort had Tim exactly where he wanted him, but instead of finishing him off, he continued to goad him. "Once I kill you, I'll destroy Harry Potter, and then there'll be no one left to stand against me. After tonight, if anyone speaks of you, they'll speak only of your foolishness, how you pointlessly tried to oppose me, and how I ended your miserable existence…" Voldemort's smile grew wider. "Give your sister my regards when you see her…"

Unfortunately for Voldemort, his unending focus on Tim prevented him from noticing that the Professor's broadsword was falling from the sky with its blade pointed down. Before Voldemort could even utter one part of the Killing Curse, the blade came down, slicing his nose clean off.

Voldemort dropped his wand once again, opting to clutch his bloody mound instead, letting loose a roar that most definitely caused Hell to stir.

Tim quickly got to his feet and reached for Voldemort's bald head, grabbing him and dragging him over to his sick. Tim pressed Voldemort's face down into it, forcing him to choke on his own pile of vomit. "You've caused too much pain! No more, _Tom_!" Tim yelled. "This is where you _die_!"

Voldemort howled in terror, no longer able to breathe through what was left of his nose. He writhed around desperately, trying to throw Tim off of him. Tim kept his hold firm, hearing Voldemort's cries become less and less prominent. Tim licked his lips, feeling Voldemort grow weaker and weaker. His moment was almost at hand.

" _Stupefy_!" Tim felt himself hit from all sides by Wormtail's, Patrem's, Gite's and Lucius's Stunning Spells, causing Tim to get knocked into the air, momentarily dazed as Wormtail helped his master to his feet. Voldemort groaned, more sick spilling from his mouth. He turned to his followers, obviously displeased they had intervened, but grateful at the same time, knowing that he was so close to death in that moment.

Tim jolted, his body quickly recovering from the quadruple Stunning Spell that would have no doubt fatally wounded anyone else. Wormtail gripped at his master's side, before disappearing, along with Voldemort and the rest of his surviving followers, in a whirlwind of smoke. "Farewell, Tim… We shall meet again, and when we do… you will die…!" Voldemort's words echoed for a moment, quickly swallowed by the wind and the sound of a loud crack.

Harry groaned, picking himself up off the ground, his head pounding and a ringing in his ears.

"Jemma…" Tim mumbled, a single manly tear running down his face, feeling deep inside his righteous heart that he let his sister down. Curling his hand into a fist, Tim punched the tombstone of Tom Riddle Sr. "Damn it! My plan failed!" Tim yelled.

"What plan?" Harry asked.

"Oh, I was using you as bait to lure out Voldemort." Tim said simply.

Harry's mouth opened slightly, a cornucopia of emotions swirling about inside of him. "So then... this whole time…?" Harry curled his right hand into a fist and punched Tim in the jaw. "You _monster_!" Harry shouted. "You've just been using me this whole time! I _trusted_ you! I didn't think of you as a teacher, I thought of you as a _friend_!" Harry started breathing heavily, no longer able to comprehend Tim's actions. "You…! Cedric _died_ because of you! _You_ killed _Cedric_!"

"Hey! It's not my fault Fredric died-"

"How much has all of this just been a big joke to you?!" Harry yelled, eyes widening as Tim grabbed him by his shirt and yanked him up to meet his eye level, the boy dangling off the ground.

"Alright, you little snot, I wanna make this _very_ clear," Tim said coldly. "I don't care about you, or Fredric, or any of the other students. I only care about one thing: avenging my sister. And I would have gotten away with it, too, if it weren't for you meddling kids!" Tim dropped Harry to the ground, walking over to where Voldemort's nose was, picking it up.

"I don't think of you as anything anymore…" Harry muttered, slowly getting to his feet. "You can find your own way back to Hogwarts…" the boy mumbled. Tim watched Harry drag Cedric's corpse over to the Triwizard Cup, both disappearing in a flash of light, leaving Tim standing in the Little Hangleton graveyard, alone.

Tim looked down at the broken-off piece of Voldemort's nose in his hand, before crushing it into a fine powder without a second thought.


	21. Death Eaters Eating Death

A few miles from Little Hangleton, a young dark-skinned woman watched the Dark Mark disappear from the sky. Her unholy red eyes twinkled, an older, staunchly-built man approaching her from behind.

"See? I told you…" the man said. "He's come back."

The woman turned, smiling at him in an almost patronizing way. "Don't tell me you're concerned. He didn't interfere last time. I say we let him do what he wants." She shrugged. "He can worry about humans, and we can worry about us."

"I think the others might want to take action this time, Yoru." The man addressed his younger companion.

"Well they're not here, are they?" Yoru spoke softly, before putting a finger to her lips. "Still…" she mused, "it might be fun to intervene." A wide smile formed on her face, pearly white fangs visible from the corners of her mouth. "Yes… I think I'll find out what's going on, and then maybe I'll have some fun…"

* * *

Tim Ihansha sat atop his motorbike, surveying the countryside as he traveled alongside the River Ness, the city Inverness in the distance. Although the scenery was absolutely beautiful, Tim refused to let himself be distracted by it. There was no way Tim was going to wait around like he'd done for the last four years. He was going to find Voldemort and kill him. Of course the problem was that he didn't even know where to start looking for him. Tim knew he was stronger than Voldemort, and that the dark wizard had no chance of defeating him on his own. That was why he'd fled, after all, and Tim would never forgive himself if he let any sort of momentum get away from him.

Tim's stomach rumbled as the flawless man remembered he hadn't eaten since lunch the last day of the Triwizard Tournament. If he wanted to keep his perfect body functioning correctly, he knew he needed to provide it with the proper fuel before continuing his search for Voldemort and his followers.

Tim turned around, greatly increasing his speed as he raced across the top of the River Ness, deciding to head into the city of Inverness to get something to eat. At the end of the river, Tim jumped with his motorbike over the side-railing, passing a stone wall and an unmarked building. Tim decided against going to one of the many restaurants he passed during his trek throughout the city. Instead, his eyes took to a little village shop tucked between a real estate office and a Burger King.

Tim pulled up outside the shop, killing his ignition and heading inside.

A middle-aged balding man stood behind the counter, and seemed very pleased by Tim's arrival. "Good morning!" He smiled.

"Yeah, hi. What currency do you use? Pounds? Dollars? Dollarydoos?" Tim asked.

"Pound sterling."

"So that's pounds, right?"

"Is this your first time in Scotland?"

"Well, _Muggle_ Scotland, yeah…"

"I'm sorry? 'Muggle'?"

Tim pressed a hand to his face. "Oh, right! The whole secrecy thing! Never mind. Nah, never been to Scotland."

"Right… Well, what can I get you?"

"Just the protein powder, please." Tim requested, the shop keeper nodding, turning around and grabbing the massive container of protein powder on the shelf behind him and giving it to Tim.

"Thanks." Tim smiled, handing over the correct amount of money, before tearing off the seal, unscrewing the lid and pouring out all the protein powder onto the counter. Plugging one of his nostrils with his finger, he pressed his other nostril to the substance, and began to snort it, as though his nose had the suction power of an industrial vacuum.

Soon, all the protein powder had been snorted, and Tim slammed his hands down onto the counter. "Hot _damn_!" he shouted, a little bit of residue resting just above his lips. Tim leaned over the counter, lowering his voice to a whisper. "You wouldn't happen to know of anything shady going on around here, would you?"

"E-e-e-excuse me…?" the shop keeper asked, incredibly flustered. "Look, do you need me to call someone for you?"

"That's a 'no' then…" Tim mumbled, sighing and leaving the shop without another word.

As Tim left the shop, he put his hands to his hips and slowly looked around, watching as people went about their daily lives, totally oblivious to the forthcoming danger. Tim turned, inadvertently bumping into a man covered in black body gear. "Sorry…" the man apologized.

Tim twitched. "Watch it, punk!"

The man shook his head, and then continued on walking. Tim's nostrils flared, not at all liking being brushed aside. But that was when Tim noticed the man's clothing.

He was wearing all black, the upper chest and arm areas adorned with some sort of pattern, his shoulders broadened by some additional material as though a cape or a cloak was supposed to be attached. In fact, the more Tim stared at the man, the more it reminded him of his confrontation with Voldemort in the graveyard.

If Tim didn't know any better, he could have sworn the man was one of Voldemort's followers, but even if that was the case, he couldn't go and confront him in broad daylight, especially in the presence of other Muggles. So Tim decided to stay relatively out of sight, following behind the man at a safe distance.

The man walked through several streets and back alleys, Tim following in arrears and hiding behind any odd bit of cover whenever the man turned around to check if he was being followed.

Eventually, the man reached what looked to be a dead-end, a brick wall connected to a very large building at the end of a narrow walkway. The man looked around, Tim ducking down behind a dumpster, or skip bin, before he pulled out his wand. Tim slowly peeked out from behind the bin.

" _Dissendium_ …" the man whispered. Tim watched as the brick wall opened up, as though it were a set of elevator doors. Tim's suspicions were proven true.

The man moved to walk through the passageway, but Tim sneaked up behind him and knocked him out.

* * *

The man's eyes slowly opened, a line of drool running down his chin and onto his legs, his body strapped to a chair. Eyelids flickering, consciousness stirring, the man looked up to see Tim staring down at him, holding his wand in his hand.

Tim broke the man's wand, snapping it in half and discarding the pieces. "I know how important a wand is to a wizard." Tim said, almost sounding genuinely apologetic to have broken it. "But I'm not about to make the same mistake I made before."

"Where am I…?" the man hazily asked.

"I'll be asking the questions, bub." Tim said calmly. "And if you value your life, you'll answer me honestly."

"What do you want from me?"

Tim gave the man a right hook, holding back just enough so that he wouldn't break his jaw. The man let out a quick yelp of pain.

"I told you. You answer _my_ questions. Now… what's your name?"

The man stayed silent, but when Tim reared his hand back as if to punch him again, his resolve faltered and he trembled. "Mahad…"

"You a wizard, Mahad?"

"…Yes…"

"You a follower of Voldemort?"

The man's eyes widened but quickly tightened, his actions answering Tim's question. "I don't know a Voldemort."

Tim chuckled. "What, you know him as Morty? Tom Riddle? At least have some damn pride. The last one of you I interrogated had a pair o' brass ones. He might have been scum, but at least he put one hundred percent of himself towards that cause. But cowards do live longer…"

"A-alright, so…" Mahad cleared his throat. "Maybe I am a Death Eater. What's it to you?"

Tim narrowed his eyes. "Death Eater?"

Mahad almost laughed, but then he remembered his current predicament. "You know of Voldemort but not his army? Who are you exactly?"

Tim licked his lips, fighting the urge to reach over and hit the wizard for asking a question. "What were you doing in Muggle Scotland?"

Mahad's right eye twitched. "Looking for someone…"

"Who?"

"Igor Karkaroff."

"Kakarot? Kakarot?! _Kakarot_!" Tim shouted, his sheer energy causing the room to shake. "…Why?!" He asked, calming himself down.

"H-he's on the run…!" Mahad stammered, the room having stopped shaking. "I-I was asked to assist some other Death Eaters in hunting him down! He's a deserter!"

"Deserter? You mean… _he_ was a Death Eater?!"

Mahad nodded his head quickly.

"Where is he?"

Mahad's eyes widened. "Y-you know him?"

"Where is he?!" Tim repeated.

"S-somewhere up north." Mahad whimpered, Tim grabbing the man's clothing and throwing him back against the chair.

"Where _specifically_?!"

"The-the-the Muggle village of Halkirk, or possibly Tongue."

Tim grimaced, spitting at the ground. "Alright, you've been useful. I won't kill you." Tim turned around, grabbing a tin of baked beans off a nearby table. "There you go, some nourishment. I'll be back in a few hours."

And with that, Tim left the room of his makeshift interrogation chamber, locking the door behind him and leaving Mahad trapped inside.

* * *

 _It's a sign! You know it is! Voldemort is coming back! You can't deny it anymore!_

Karkaroff's own words could not ring truer than they did now, the thin man pacing back and forth in the top room of a two-story house on the edge of a forest. His breathing was heavy and erratic, his body feeling as though he was going to have a heart attack.

It was only a short while ago that he was standing with his student Viktor Krum and overlooking a huge maze, and now he was on the run.

He felt it in the air, in his skin. Voldemort calling for him. He tried to shake it off, pretend it was nothing, deny it, even though, through his own words he knew there was no possible way he could. It was only when Harry Potter re-emerged from the maze carrying the body of Cedric Diggory and announcing that Voldemort had indeed returned that Karkaroff high-tailed it out of Hogwarts.

Luckily for him, he was able to easily make it out of Hogwarts due to all the commotion over Cedric's death. Only Severus Snape caught his eye. Karkaroff knew how he'd sold out a bunch of Death Eaters in the past, and because of that, there would have been no way he would have been allowed back into the fold. No. He knew they'd kill him for treachery if given the chance. He had to look after himself.

He had to run.

The sound of whispering wind drew Karkaroff's eyes from the floor as he rushed over to the window, watching as a small group of Death Eaters Apparated in from out of nowhere. Even from afar, he knew who they were just based on how they stood and carried themselves. Patrem Crabbe, Gite Goyle, Dóry Bronson, and Alecto Carrow.

Karkaroff started to sweat, desperately moving to escape through the window. Unfortunately, by the time he'd made it to the window, the Death Eaters were already upon him. "Away from the window, Karkaroff." Patrem's voice sounded.

Karkaroff gasped, doing as he was told, turning to the Death Eaters and holding his hands in the air to offer surrender. "You dirty rat!" Gite shouted, all four Death Eaters pointing their wands at the traitor.

Just as the four raised their wands at Karkaroff, Tim burst into the room, grabbing Patrem from behind and snapping his neck. The sound caused the other three Death Eaters to turn, eyes wide in fear, confusion and fury as they directed their wands toward Tim. " _Avada Kedavra_!" they shouted, Tim using Patrem's body as a shield.

Tim threw Patrem at Alecto, causing the witch to drop her wand and topple over. Tim darted toward Gite and disarmed him with a swift roundhouse kick. Tim followed up with another roundhouse, kicking Gite into a locked cupboard. The wizard collided with it, the cupboard shaking from impact as Gite dropped to the ground. As Gite got up, the cupboard became completely unsteady and fell on him, killing him instantly.

Bronson punched Tim in the face, for some reason deciding to use physical violence in spite of being able to use magic. Tim growled, simply turning and grabbing him by the neck, squeezing and popping Bronson's head like a blood-filled balloon, his body dropping to the ground.

From her downed position, Alecto grabbed her wand, but Tim stepped on her arm, causing her to scream in pain. With his free leg, Tim kicked Alecto's head off, as though it were a ball, the witch's head smashing into a chest of drawers.

"Y-you…" Karkaroff stuttered. "You're… you're Tim…"

"That's right." Tim said, walking over to him. Karkaroff flinched, bracing himself for the end as he thought Tim was going to do to him what he did to the other Death Eaters, but Tim simply reached his hand out and said "Come with me."

"Wh-what…?"

"Come on, Kakarot. It's quite simple," Tim sighed. "The way I see it, you have two choices: Spend the rest of your life running from Voldemort and his followers, who I'm sure aren't gonna stop hunting you until you're dead. _Or_ ," Tim paused, indicating to Karkaroff that this was obviously the preferred option, "You can join me, and help me fight against Voldemort."

Karkaroff stood, looking incredibly hesitant as his eyes moved between the living Tim and the dead Gite. "I-I don't know…"

"You-you don't _know_?!" Tim shouted. "Are you _kidding_?! It's either him or you, Kakarot, and to be honest, you're worth about as much to me alive as you are dead to Voldemort. I just figured you'd want to live."

"A-alright… I'll… I'll help you…" Karkaroff mumbled.

Tim smiled, quickly embracing Karkaroff in a manly fashion. "Nice to see you have a brain in-between those ears of yours. We have to move quickly. There's probably more of those Death Eaters lurking around. Come on…"

Karkaroff nodded, following Tim over to the window as the gorgeous man pried it open for the two of them to make their escape.

* * *

Tim and Karkaroff returned to Tim's hideout, Mahad still strapped to his seat, tomato sauce around his mouth from the baked beans he'd devoured.

"You got your wand?" Tim asked as he invited Karkaroff in.

"Of course." Karkaroff replied.

"Good. Kill him." Tim said bluntly, Karkaroff's eyes falling to Mahad.

Mahad's eyes went wide. "W-wait! You said you weren't gonna kill me!"

"I said _I_ wouldn't kill you." Tim smiled, turning to Karkaroff. "Go on. Prove to me that you want to repent. Kill him."

With only a brief moment of hesitance, Karkaroff drew his wand and uttered the Killing Curse, forever silencing Mahad.

Tim clasped his hands together. "Fantastic! Alright, now I think it's time we got rid of that beard."

"Excuse me?" Karkaroff asked, sounding genuinely insulted that Tim wanted to remove his facial hair.

"Well, among other things. We have to change your appearance." Tim grabbed a razor from the table and gave it to Karkaroff. "Here, use this."

Karkaroff looked almost bewildered at the strange item Tim had given him. "What do I do with this?"

Tim's mouth dropped open. "It's a razor. You know, to shave with?" Tim sighed. "Never mind. I'll shave it off for you. I'll just get some shaving cream. In the meantime, tell me everything you know about Voldemort and his operations…"

* * *

The sound of footsteps came as Yoru ascended the stairs of Karkaroff's hideaway. As she reached the top, her eyes widened at the sight in front of her.

"Aww…" Yoru pouted. "Looks like I'm too late." Her expression quickly changed to that of a sinister smile as she looked around at the Death Eater corpses and copious amounts of blood smeared across the floor. "Oh, well, no sense in letting all this blood go to waste…"


	22. Midnight

Voldemort sat in his chair of ebony, a throne adorned with rubies, sapphires and other gemstones that gleamed even in the darkness of the night. It was an uncomfortable throne to be sure, but befitting of Voldemort's stature. At least that's what he thought, even if no one could really see him sitting in it.

After being forced to flee from the Riddle House in Little Hangleton, Voldemort and his small group of Death Eaters traveled to a clandestine grotto. He would have preferred something a little more elegant or regal, much like his throne, but he knew that anything too visually extravagant could possibly alert others to his presence.

He'd heard from his spies that, while Harry Potter had been successful in informing Dumbledore of his revival, nobody else believed him, and in fact, the Ministry of Magic had apparently started a smear campaign against the both of them. This worked incredibly to Voldemort's advantage. As long as he stayed in the shadows, he was free to act through his Death Eaters and it would seem as though he was no threat at all. Everyone would be none the wiser. All Voldemort had to worry about now was Tim.

Voldemort grimaced. To him, it seemed impossible that a Muggle like Tim was able to bring him, the most powerful wizard of all time, to his knees. There was no doubt about it. Tim had improved, somehow. Pushed his body beyond what a normal Muggle should have been capable of. If he knew Tim was alive at the time, he would have waited and tried to get blood from him rather than Harry. Still though, Harry's blood seemed to do the trick, and Voldemort hadn't experienced any ill effects during his fight with Tim.

But the fact that Tim had him gasping for air even for a moment… Just the thought made Voldemort's silver blood boil.

Voldemort scowled, rubbing his nose. It had been healed by Wormtail shortly after the battle, shaped into a nose that was more snake-like than human. In return, Voldemort created a hand of silver for Wormtail, to replace the hand he sacrificed at Little Hangleton.

"M-Master…"

Voldemort brought his hand away from his nose, looking over at his servant Wormtail, who slowly approached whist brandishing his silver hand.

"What is it, Wormtail?"

"The Death Eaters you sent to kill Karkaroff… They've been k-killed, my lord." Wormtail stammered, instinctively flinching, fearing that Voldemort would erupt into a rage.

Instead however, he just shrugged. "By Tim, I presume, yes?"

"A-ah, well… their bodies, Master… th-there's no blood."

Voldemort's red eyes piqued with interested. "No blood?"

Wormtail nodded feverishly. "Their corpses were clean. I'm not quite sure Tim would be the kind of person to clean their bodies after killing them."

"Yes, you're right…" Voldemort said, sitting back in his chair, tapping his long, slender fingers together. "Very well… what of Karkaroff?"

"Gone, master. We have no idea if he's alive or dead."

Voldemort licked his lips. "It seems… we might be dealing with others that wish to meddle. I can't afford to make myself known to the Ministry of Magic just yet…" he mused, a small smile forming on his face. "Perhaps…" he trailed.

"Perhaps what, Master?" Wormtail asked.

Voldemort shook his head. "Nothing. Now leave my presence." He instructed.

"Yes, Master…" Wormtail bowed, turning to leave.

"Actually, there is one thing, Wormtail…"

The rat-like man shivered, looking back at Voldemort. "Y-yes…?"

"Tell Lucius… I want Karkaroff dead…"

Wormtail nodded so incredibly quickly, it looked as though his head was going to pop off of his body. Wormtail quickly scurried out of the room with very uneven steps.

Voldemort smiled, flexing his long, slender, protracted fingers and tapping the ebony throne softly. "Tim's strength…" he said to himself. He felt it in Little Hangleton. That and a connection between himself, Harry and Tim. Especially now, within this new body of his, he could feel there was something more there. More than just the fact he'd killed their loved ones. "Could he… could he be a part of the prophecy too?" Tim had to be connected to all of it, Voldemort thought. It couldn't have been a coincidence that he'd interfered twice in his plot to kill Harry. Voldemort's smile widened, a small sound escaping his lips. "Let's see how strong you really are…"

* * *

" _This_ is what Muggles wear?" Karkaroff asked, almost in a state of confusion due to the clothing he was wearing and general outward appearance. Gone were his drab, brown clothes, messy hair and pointed goatee. Instead, he wore a red Manchester United T-shirt, a pair of stonewashed jeans, and a pair of brown leather boat shoes. His facial hair was completely gone, and the hair on his head had been trimmed to a Caesar cut. What was perhaps the most jarring change however, was the absence of Karkaroff's Dark Mark. Tim had forcibly removed it by tearing several layers of skin off Karkaroff's arm (with his permission, of course) after it became apparent that removing it or covering it up with magic was an impossible task.

"You'll get used to it. You look better like this anyway." Tim shrugged, not seeing Karkaroff blush from Tim's comment. "How's your arm?"

"It's fine. The pain has stopped."

"Good. I'm hoping it means whatever connection Voldemort had to you has been severed." Tim stated, noticing that Karkaroff looked at him with a curious expression. "What?"

"How do you not have fear? How are you not afraid to say his name?" Karkaroff whispered.

"Are you serious? It's a _name_." Tim deadpanned. "We've all got names, Kakarot. 'Voldemort' just happens to be the name of a two-bit bald-headed genocidal simpleton." Tim's tone suddenly became more serious. "People give too much power to words. It's actions that define a person… and I will _never_ forgive Voldemort for his actions…"

Karkaroff suddenly grew very stiff, wondering if Tim was aware of how he used to torture Muggles as a Death Eater. "…Do you feel that way about his followers?"

Tim's eyes narrowed, his voice getting softer. "You mean _you_?"

Karkaroff froze. "Y-yes…"

"You might've shown me loyalty, but not bravery. If you're willing to right your wrongs, then you'll have proved yourself to not be a worthless human being… and maybe even a useful ally."

Karkaroff instinctively dropped to his knees, tears of gratefulness streaming from the man's eyes. "Th-thank you…!" he blubbered pathetically. "You're a saint…!"

"No… I'm God." Tim muttered. "Anyway, we should probably get some sleep."

As Tim walked away, leaving Karkaroff to his own devices, he saw the beautiful man cloaked in a bright yellow light, as if his love and passion for mankind could not be contained by one Earthly body.

Karkaroff silently wept.

* * *

Tim tossed and turned in his sleep, sounds and visions of Lucius Malfoy walking about in an old abandoned castle filling his mind. Unconsciously, Tim clenched his fists, the vision of Lucius quickly changing to that of Voldemort, and in a flash of green light, Tim awoke in a cold sweat.

Tim brought his legs over the side of his bed, slipping some pants on before getting up and walking over to Karkaroff, the ex-Death Eater having been restrained to a cot, and lightly shaking him on the shoulder. "Kakarot, hey…" Tim whispered.

"What is it?" Karkaroff asked, turning over but still half asleep.

"There's something I need to do." Tim said, his tone an uncharacteristically grave one. "I'll be back by morning. Don't get yourself killed while I'm gone."

Karkaroff scoffed, waving Tim away.

* * *

The sun wasn't going to rise for another few hours, but Tim didn't waste any time in tracking down Lucius Malfoy. It was so strange. Even though he thought it was just a dream, there was something real about it. Tim's anger towards the man who assisted in Voldemort's escape would have faded with the dream if it was indeed just a simple dream, but it didn't.

It got stronger.

"He's the last one…" Tim said to himself. If he succeeded in killing Lucius, he would have killed every Death Eater that assisted in bringing Voldemort back to life. Then all he'd have left to do is kill Voldemort.

Atop his motorbike, he trekked to the ruins of the New Slains Castle. The closer he got to the castle, the stronger his feelings of anger became, as if he was still dreaming. Tim's chest itched, a mild irritation as his nipples hardened. The scar on his chest reminded him of his purpose in the darkened night as he rode on into the fog.

Approaching the castle, the itch on Tim's chest intensified into a dull throb. Tim parked his motorbike out the front, immediately recognizing the ruins from his dream. Tim moved cautiously, like a platinum power panther hunting its prey, ascending the steps of the castle.

The brick staircase shook with every step, even though Tim was comparatively light on his feet, the gorgeous teacher not wanting to make a sound as he moved. Reaching the top floor of the castle, the oldness of it was even more apparent. Tim walked forward slowly, into the center of the room, from where he could look out the four windows that surrounded him.

"Hello, Lucius…" Tim smiled, slowly turning to the blond Death Eater standing behind him.

"Heh, I suppose it's no surprise that you can detect my presence…" Lucius flicked his hair back. "Tell me: are you at all curious as to how and why you decided to come here?"

"No. Is Voldemort with you?"

"No, I'm here on my own." Lucius smiled, slowly drawing his wand. "I thought you might bring Karkaroff with you…"

"Why? So you could kill him?" Tim asked. "You know, you Death Eaters are really pathetic. You might be wizards but you've fallen into the same trap that Muggles did half a century ago. You guys are a bunch of real stupid-heads!"

"How _dare_ you!" Lucius hissed, sounding legitimately offended. "It is _you_ who is the stupid-head! _Avada_ _Kedavra_!" he shouted. Tim easily dodged Lucius's Killing Curse, ripping a brick out of the wall and ditching it at the blond's head. " _Protego_!" Lucius yelled, the brick ricocheting off an invisible barrier.

Lucius refocused his wand on Tim's position, only to find that the Muggle was nowhere to be seen.

"Do you like butter? 'Cause here comes the toast…" Tim whispered in Lucius's ear, having taken the opportunity to get behind the wizard's back.

"What does that even _mean_?" Lucius growled, too confused to be surprised that Tim had managed to get behind him.

Tim smirked, shaking his head before flashing his pearly teeth at the blond. Lucius yelled in annoyance, thrusting his wand forward, non-verbally attacking Tim with another Killing Curse. Tim once again moved his body to the side, easily dodging the jet of green light. "You're getting a little too kill-happy for my liking. I might have to take you out sooner than I wanted." Tim sighed. "I see where your son gets it from."

"Don't you speak of my son like that, you filthy Muggle."

Tim twitched, wanting now more than ever to rip Lucius's head off. The pain from his scar was becoming less and less bearable. "Well, I am his teacher. Speaking of which, since we're locked in battle, how 'bout an impromptu parents' evening?"

"What?" Lucius asked.

"I figured that you'd wanna know how well your son's been doing in class."

Lucius sighed. "Fine. How is Draco doing?"

"Terribly. He's probably the worst student I've ever taught, not including the ones in Hufflepuff."

Lucius growled, non-verbally throwing a Stunning Spell at Tim. Tim jumped forward, thrusting his chest out as the Stunning Spell struck him, having no effect on the indescribably handsome man.

Tim quickly punched Lucius in the face, causing the blond Death Eater to drop to the ground, his wand slipping from his grip. Tim then proceeded to kick Lucius in the face several times over, blood spilling from the man's now-broken nose.

Only able to take so much abuse, Lucius rolled away from Tim, shakily getting up and staggering back.

Tim cracked his knuckles, slowly walking forward. "It's time I end this…"

Lucius winced, his wand too far out of reach to be able to mount a successful attack, or even defend himself. Lucius shut his eyes tight, fearing and waiting for the end.

"Open your eyes!" Tim barked. "At least try to face your death with some honor!"

"Look at _you_ …" a feminine voice cooed. "You're _really_ getting into it."

Tim turned quickly, facing away from Lucius to meet the eyes of a young dark-skinned woman, her lips curled into a playful smile. "Who are you?!" Tim shouted.

"The name's Yoru. Yoru Kuroi." she licked her lips, Tim catching a glimpse of the woman's fangs. Lucius just stood there, almost shivering. Yoru began walking forward, looking over at Lucius. "You should get out of here." She told him.

Lucius swallowed, nodding quickly as he began to move away. Tim quickly turned back to face the blond and roughed him up a little more. "Where do you think you're goin', pretty boy?" Tim snickered. Just as he was about to finish Lucius off however, Tim moved to the side, dodging an incoming staff which became lodged in the wall. It had been thrown like a javelin, with sharpened points at both ends and seemed as though it was just large and sturdy enough to sit on, like a broomstick.

Tim turned himself around to face Yoru for a brief moment. "The Hell's your deal?! Stay out of this!"

Lucius however used the moment that Tim was distracted to escape. He had no idea who the mysterious woman was or where she'd come from, but he didn't care. Tim's appearance at the castle had proven Voldemort right, and Lucius had to get back to report to him.

Yoru splayed her fingers out as her staff returned to her. "Are you _always_ this grumpy?" Yoru cocked her head to the side. Tim's eyes narrowed and his nostril's flared, the perfect man charging towards the stunning woman, ready to fight. Yoru effortlessly dodged Tim, jumping into the air and backflipping an unnecessary number of times before landing gracefully, flicking her eggplant purple hair back behind her head, Tim's face inches from her own. "You're pretty quick…" Yoru admitted, inhaling deeply. "You smell good too… anyone ever tell you that?"

"Only crazy people." Tim went to punch Yoru, but his fist was quickly caught by the dark-skinned beauty.

"Don't worry. You can hit me harder than that. I'm not fragile." She teased. "Though if I were you, I wouldn't be spending my time here."

"What are you talking about?"

"You _seriously_ don't know?" Yoru let out another little giggle. "Wow. Cute _and_ clueless. Ya know, the world doesn't stop to wait for the actions of one…"

"What do you mean?" Tim asked.

"He'll be killed if you're not there. You'd better hurry." Yoru smirked, blowing Tim a kiss before leaping out the window like a phantasmagorical angel.

"Wait!" Tim shouted, running over to the window, but it was too late. She was gone. Tim had no time to reflect on Yoru's sudden appearance and departure however, as his mind was drawn to her words. Eyes widening, one name escaped Tim's lips. "Harry…!"


	23. Fourteen Years' Worth of Payback

Harry Potter sat carelessly on the swing, his posterior stinging from the heat given off by the seat. The sun continued to burn brightly above him, Harry's glazed over eyes staring out at the playground equipment as he watched innocent children play. It was probably one of the hottest days in recent memory, but Harry wasn't able to escape from the heat, as his legal guardians, his uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia, had forced him out of the house for the morning. This was, unfortunately, a pretty usual thing for Harry to experience.

Harry turned, listening to a conversation between a young child and his mother. Harry smiled, wishing to himself that he'd had the opportunity to get to know his own parents before they were killed. But of course, he didn't. Still, the innocence of the child rubbed off on Harry, if only for a moment.

Harry's expression darkened, and the boy wizard swallowed. Even though all the children were happy, and the sun was giving off a powerful light, Harry could see only darkness, and he shivered as though his body was freezing cold. Harry sighed. It was always the same. Ever since coming home from Hogwarts after his fourth year concluded, all he could think about was that evening in the graveyard, and how Cedric had died. How Tim had _let_ him die. How Voldemort had returned.

Since then, he hadn't heard anything from Hermione, Dumbledore or anyone else regarding anything in the Wizarding World. Usually, Hermione would have sent letters over the holiday break, as would have Ron. However, Ron had never quite gotten over Harry's name getting pulled from the Goblet of Fire, and their friendship had basically ended that year. But Hermione was still Harry's friend, wasn't she? She'd helped him throughout the Triwizard Tournament, and they were still on good terms with each other, as far as Harry knew. Of course, it obviously pained Hermione that Harry and Ron were no longer friends, but Harry was not going to be the one to apologize. Not when Ron was being a complete Spotted Dick.

Cruel laughter drew Harry from his thoughts, the young bespectacled boy looking up and through the waves of heat. A group of five boys around the same age as Harry approached the playground with keen interest. Harry recognized the middle boy right away. Dudley Dursley – his cousin, son of Vernon and Petunia. The chubby boy wore a thick leather jacket and brandished an open packet of cigarettes in his side-pocket.

Apart from Voldemort, Dudley had been the cause of almost all of Harry's pain and suffering for as long as he could remember. He always used to bully him, either verbally or physically, but that all changed when he received his letter to Hogwarts and discovered he was a wizard. Now, Dudley was actually afraid of Harry, which Harry relished every moment he could.

It was only when Dudley and his gang approached that he realized they were the only people still in the playground. Dudley's gang looked as though they were going to walk right on by Harry, and usually, Harry would have let them, but as a light stinging sensation ran through Harry's scar, the boy couldn't help himself. "Hey, 'Big D'. Beat up another ten year old?" Harry asked quickly.

The gang stopped walking, their laughter ceasing incredibly quickly as they moved over to the sandpit opposite the swings. Dudley took a cigarette out from the packet, lighting it up before taking a long, hard drag from it. Dudley knew he was powerless against Harry, since he carried that wand with him everywhere he went, but he couldn't risk looking weak in front of his gang. "This one deserved it…"

"Yeah? Why? Did he say you look like a bipedal pig?" Harry asked without taking a beat.

Dudley grimaced, flicking his cigarette at Harry, much to the approval of his gang. "At least _I_ don't cry in my sleep." Dudley snickered.

Harry's eyes briefly widened. "Wh-what are you talking about?"

"I heard you last night…" the large boy sneered. "'Don't kill Cedric! _Boo_ _hoo_!'" he mocked, getting a roar of laughter from his fellow gang members. Harry's bravado started to fade. Although Harry looked visibly beaten by Dudley's words, his cousin refused to let up. "You think if you cry long enough, your mother will come and comfort you? She's dead!"

In that moment, Harry changed. A wire had snapped, a switch had been flicked. The Harry that would have taken Dudley's abuse was no more. Harry drew out his wand, gripping it tightly as he jumped off the swing and shouted " _Stupefy_!"

Dudley's gang watched with a mix of confusion, terror and amazement as a jet of red light emanated from Harry's wand and struck Dudley in the chest, the chubby boy getting flung across the playground, eating a mouthful of sand.

"Holy crap! Let's get outta here!" One of the boys shouted, the rest of the gang nodding feverishly in agreement. Harry let them leave; after all, it wasn't them he was after.

It was only Dudley.

Dudley felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him, not realizing that Harry could have very easily knocked him unconscious, or worse. Harry walked slowly towards Dudley, enjoying the immense look of fear in Dudley's eyes.

"You can't use magic… you're not allowed…" Dudley said weakly, as he tried to back away from Harry. Harry simply struck Dudley with another Stunning Spell, sending the boy through the air again. Harry's scar began to burn, and he twitched, shaking his head before once again walking towards his cousin.

"Fourteen years." Harry said coldly. "Fourteen years I've had to put up with your crap. Not anymore." Harry stopped when he was a few feet from Dudley, looking down at him in silence. Dudley struggled to his feet, feeling as though his body was chained to the floor. Harry smiled. "I remember one time in Primary School when I was made to run cross country, you and your mates threw rocks at me from behind. Hurt like Hell. O'course, you only did it when the teachers were out of sight." Harry paused, briefly looking around. "And it looks like there's nobody around, so let's have a little race of our own."

"W…wh-what?"

"C'mon… I'll even give you a head start…" Harry simpered, brandishing his wand. Dudley didn't move, and Harry frowned. "If you don't want to get up, I'll just kill you right here."

Dudley's heart jumped into his throat as the boy got to his feet, quickly taking off and screaming.

Harry began to count down. "Five… four… three… two… _one_ …!" Harry narrowed his eyes and took off after Dudley. A Stunning Spell narrowly missed Dudley's head as the two boys ran, Harry beginning to consistently fling spells at Dudley. "Run faster, _Diddykins_!" Harry laughed manically, the orange sky slowly beginning to change its color.

Dudley had never run faster in his life. He didn't even know where he was running to. He was just running. Dudley turned quickly, running into a nearby underpass, Harry keenly following behind. Halfway down the underpass, Harry struck Dudley with a Stunning Spell, causing the heavy boy to drop to the ground with a yelp.

"Please, please don't hurt me!" Dudley begged.

"I know a four letter word for dirt…" Harry said nonsensically, licking his lips in a predatory fashion. Harry gripped his wand tighter, exhaling slowly. It was then that Harry noticed he could visibly see his breath in the air, and how cold everything had suddenly become. A feeling of despair washed over him before he was suddenly grabbed from behind by a mysterious hooded figure.

The creature was unlike anything Harry had ever seen before. Harry's wand fell from his hand as the decaying corpse-like ghost, a Dementor, pressed him hard against the wall of the underpass, making Harry cry out in pain.

"W-w-w-what the Hell is that thing?!" Dudley shouted shakily. Unfortunately, there was not just one Dementor lurking in the underpass. Dudley quickly felt himself swept off his feet as another Dementor appeared, pinning Dudley to the wall as well.

Harry groaned as the Dementor attacking him leaned in closely, Harry getting a frightful look at the faceless head of the creature. All of a sudden, Harry wanted to die. He saw no point in trying to go on living his life. Voldemort was back, and he'd kill him eventually. Harry knew that. It was time for him to give into death.

"Get away from me!" Dudley choked as his Dementor leaned in toward him, and it was as if the boy could feel his soul beginning to leave his body. Visions of his life filled him with dread. He'd always seen himself as his parents' pride and joy, but faced with this demonic creature, he saw himself as nothing but a pathetic waste of human life, and he too wanted nothing more than to accept death.

And then, when it seemed that all hope was lost, from across the underpass, the voice of a man called out.

"Hey, Halitosis!" Tim shouted. "Why don't you try sucking face with a _real_ man?"

The Dementor attacking Dudley suddenly stopped, turning to look at Tim, before charging through the air at him, Dudley falling to the floor. Tim jumped back before bringing his right hand through the Dementor's chest, the simple power of the blow ending the Dementor's life.

Tim tore his hand back through the Dementor's corpse, the body dropping to the ground in a crumpled heap. Tim turned quickly, facing the other Dementor who had Harry pinned against the wall.

Tim leaped into the air, and with a spectacular jumping front kick, knocked the other Dementor's head clean off his body. The Dementor's limbs went limp, dropping Harry to the ground before collapsing in a heap much like the first Dementor.

Harry breathed heavily, obviously a little roughed up but in much better shape than Dudley, who seemed almost catatonic. Tim walked over to Dudley, picking him up by the collar of his shirt and made his way over to Harry. "Need a hand there, Harry?" Tim asked.

"What are _you_ doing here?!" Harry snapped, not at all sounding happy to see his Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.

"Rescuing you, of course." Tim said bluntly. "I thought you'd be more grateful, you know, since I saved your life."

" _Grateful_?!" Harry gasped, quickly getting to his feet. "You let that creep Wormtail take some of my blood! Voldemort's back thanks to you! Why the Hell would I be grateful?!"

Tim sighed. "Are you _ever_ gonna let that go?"

"What the Hell do _you_ think?" Harry spat. "You should've just let that thing kill me!"

"Hey!" Tim shouted. "Enough of that negativity. Now, come on, I'd better take you home."

"I'm not going anywhere with you, you negligent prat."

"Listen, Harry: I ain't lettin' you walk home on your own. If any more of those hooded creeps show up, you're screwed. Now where does this guy live? We should probably drop him home first." Tim suggested, looking over at Dudley's sweaty pale face.

"He's my cousin. I live with him." Harry stated dejectedly.

"Well you can't carry him home, can you? You lead the way and I'll carry him."

Harry could have argued with Tim all afternoon before the Dementor attack, but now, Harry didn't really have the strength to. He just sighed once more, briskly walking forward as Tim followed from behind.

The sky was much darker now, having turned from a bright orange to a meek and almost serene violet. Tim observed his surroundings, looking out for any other potential threats, but other than what looked like a potential army of garden gnomes converging on a neighbor's lawn, the three of them were safe.

Eventually they reached Privet Drive, the street that Harry lived on, and the boy wizard began walking a little faster. "It's this house. Number four." Harry pointed toward a rather quaint-looking house, and Tim followed him over to the front door. Instead of opening the door however, Harry turned back to his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. "Now, I want you to go."

"Harry-"

"You wanted to get me home safe, well now I am. I don't want anything more to do with you."

"I'm your teacher, Harry. You can't just ignore me-"

"I said _piss_ _off_!" Harry suddenly snapped.

Tim exhaled slowly, gently setting Dudley down on the ground. "Fine." He huffed.

Harry sighed, opening the front door and dragging Dudley in behind him, shutting the door on Tim.

As Harry entered the living room, his aunt Petunia, who'd been sitting in a chair watching television, jumped to her feet at the sight of Dudley's vegetative state. "Oh my God! Vernon, come quick!" she screamed.

Harry's uncle Vernon set aside his fudge ice cream on the kitchen counter, eyes widening as he came into the living room. "Dudley?! What the Hell happened?! Who did this to you?!"

Dudley groaned, drool running from the corner of his mouth, his wide-yet-lifeless eyes staring directly at Harry. It seemed to take an eternity for Dudley to lift one of his arms up and point a finger at Harry, though it was truly a wonder that Vernon and Petunia didn't automatically blame Harry as soon as he walked through the door.

Vernon's eyes narrowed, turning quickly to face Harry. "What the Hell have you done to my son?!" he yelled.

"A lot less than I would have liked." Harry replied truthfully.

"That's _it_!" Vernon shouted once more. This time though, his voice could have been loud enough to wake up the Devil. "I've reached my limit with you, boy! I'm not taking any more of your nonsense! Pack your bags and get out! _Get_ _out_ _right now_!"

Before Harry could do anything however, an owl flew in from the open kitchen window, clutching a letter in its beak. The owl set the letter onto the kitchen counter before turning and flying back out the window. Harry went to reach for the letter, when it suddenly sprang to life. The wax seal on the back of the envelope changed its shape to match that of a person's lips, and two outer sections of the envelope began to crease, the thin slits resembling eyes. The strangest thing of all however, was that the envelope then began to talk, the voice of an older woman coming through the 'mouth' of the envelope.

"Dear Mister Potter. The Ministry of Magic has received intelligence that at four twenty, this afternoon, you attacked a Muggle, completely and entirely unprovoked. As a clear violation of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, you are hereby expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Hoping you are well, Mafalda Hopkirk."

With that, the envelope seemed to snap back to normal, floating back down onto the kitchen counter.

Tim poked his head out from the kitchen, the young Professor having sneaked in and helped himself to Vernon's ice cream. "Aww, _da~amn_ son!" He yelled. "You're in trouble now!"

* * *

Tim sighed as he returned to his hideout, his feet heavy as he made his way inside. "Kakarot!" he called. "I'm back! Man, things have gotten really crazy! You won't…" he trailed off, absolutely stunned at the sight of Karkaroff's pale, lifeless body on the floor. "God damn it, Kakarot! You had _one_ job!"

Tim walked forward, bending down and turning over the body to inspect it. There was quite a large gash in Karkaroff's back, but there was not a trace of blood to be found. It was as though his body had been drained of all its blood, unlike anything Tim had seen before.

Tim looked around for some clue as to what went on in the hideout during his absence, his eyes eventually setting on a piece of paper in the cot. Moving over to the cot, Tim reached in and picked up the piece of paper, reading it to himself in silence.

 _'Hey~_

 _I was hoping to catch you coming back, but you've taken a little longer than I thought you would. I hope it means you ended up saving that boy. Sorry about what I did to your friend. He sure was delicious though. Maybe next time we meet, you and I can share a meal together._

 _Hope to see you soon,_

 _Yoru_

 _xo'_

"Is this your handiwork, Tim?" Dumbledore's voice asked calmly from behind him, the geriatric wizard staring down at Karkaroff's corpse.

Tim scrunched the letter up in his hand, getting up and turning to his old friend. "Please, that's not how I treat my guests. This wasn't me."

Not taking his eyes off Karkaroff, Dumbledore continued. "I think it's time for you to come back to Hogwarts, Tim."

"No, not yet." Tim said dismissively. "I still need to kill Lucius, and then find out where Voldemort is hiding."

"Is that who killed Karkaroff?"

Tim shook his head. "No. That was someone else," he sighed, Tim too looking down at Karkaroff's corpse. "Fine. I'll come back to Hogwarts, but I have a few things I need to sort out first."

Dumbledore nodded. "Alright. Are you going to bury Karkaroff's body?"

"Of course," Tim furrowed his brows, "Even though he failed at doing what I asked."

Finally, Dumbledore took his eyes off of Karkaroff's body. "Things are starting to get very dangerous, Tim. Be on your guard." He warned.

"Dangerous? Heh, that's just the way I like it." Tim smiled.


	24. The Lesser of Two Evils

It was the first day of classes when Tim finally returned to Hogwarts. Tim rushed into Dumbledore's office, the normally wondrous spectacular-looking office seeming to have a sense of dread about it, knowing and reflecting what Tim did not.

"Yo, Dumbledude! Can I borrow a pen? 'Cause last year, I lost a ton of pens and I think a bunch of Hufflepuffs' keep stealing 'em."

"Ah, Tim. Just the man I wanted to speak to-"

"Don't change the subject, old man! I want my _damned pens_!"

"Tim, we don't have pens here at Hogwarts. We use quills and ink."

"Well then how the Hell do you explain my pens going missing? Someone's _obviously_ taking them! Can't you just 'magic' me some pens?"

"Okay, here, calm down." Dumbledore sighed heavily, using his wand to conjure a box of pens. Tim's face lit up with delight as he took the box from Dumbledore's old leathery hands.

"Thanks, bing-bong-bro! Now what did you wanna talk to me about?" Tim smiled.

"Well I know that you don't read the Daily Prophet, but I thought you might like to know about what's been going on recently. The Ministry of Magic has started using it as a platform to…" Dumbledore paused, clearing his throat, "discredit me."

"What do you mean?"

"Cornelius Fudge is adamant that Voldemort hasn't returned."

"But he _has_ -"

"You and I both know he has, but for whatever reason, he doesn't want to believe it. Because of this, several articles have been written about myself and Harry, describing us as mentally unstable for thinking Voldemort's back. Some people are even suggesting that I'm after his job as Minister for Magic."

"That's a load of crock, isn't it?"

Dumbledore nodded. "I'm afraid his ego is blinding him to the truth. I've been offered the position of Minister several times over the years and I've turned it down every time, but now with Voldemort, he seems to think it's all some bid to seize control of the Ministry."

Tim cracked his knuckles. "Want me to go and knock some sense into him?"

"That wouldn't do much good. He's too set in his ways. I know that now more than ever, after what's happened with Harry. You know that Harry was required to go to court for attacking his cousin, don't you?"

Tim laughed callously. "What a story, Dumblebro."

Dumbledore continued. "He would've been sentenced to Azkaban if I hadn't have intervened when I did. Unfortunately, they didn't lift his expulsion from Hogwarts. His legal guardians, the Dursleys, have expressed that they no longer wish to care for him, so I've thought it best for Harry's safety that he remain here at Hogwarts for the time being."

"You said he was expelled."

"That doesn't mean he can't be at Hogwarts. He just won't be allowed to attend classes, since he's not a student anymore." Dumbledore explained. "I know it sounds strange, but it's what's best for Harry. As Voldemort gets stronger, Harry's mental state worsens."

Tim had to fight the instinct to run one of his hands across the scar on his chest. "I've been feeling similar…"

Dumbledore sat back in his seat, seeming a little uncomfortable. "There's more. Cornelius knows that you, like myself and Harry, believe that Voldemort has returned-"

"I don't believe. I _know_." Tim interjected.

"Yes, but, because of this, unfortunately, I've been forced to relinquish you from your duties as Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, as the Ministry of Magic has appointed one of their members to take over the position."

Tim's nostrils flared, his anger rising like an erupting volcano. " _What_?! They can't do that!"

"I'm afraid they can, but don't worry; they can't force you off the Hogwarts grounds. That's why I thought perhaps that, as Harry will be staying at Hogwarts for the time being, you could train him to be able to fight off Voldemort's influence."

Tim was seething incandescently from his seat opposite Dumbledore. To have his job ripped out from under him by the wizarding government was equal to the fury of the rough ocean's tides controlled by a blood moon.

"Excuse me, Dumbledick, there are matters I must attend to…" Tim said through clenched teeth, using all of his will to hold back his tidal wave of rage. Tim slowly but suddenly moved out from his seat, leaving Dumbledore's office with an aura of dread, much like that of the room he came into, exuberating from his unspoiled frame.

* * *

Tim ascended the steps to his Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, too furious to notice how the path to the room had changed yet again from the previous year. Reaching the top of the staircase, Tim kicked the door down with awesome fury and righteous passion. Tim took in the surroundings in a split second, noticing it was a fifth-year class, and that all the students were now staring at him. Tim's eyes moved to the front of the class, where he caught sight of the new Professor. The surprise that someone so small and weak-looking could have taken his job didn't show on his face.

The short, toad-like woman let out a small cough. "Excuse me, who are you?" she asked, the pompousness clearly evident in her voice.

"I am Ripper, Tearer, Slasher, Gouger. I am the Teeth in the Darkness, the Talons in the Night. Mine is Strength and Lust and Power! I am Tim! And this is _my_ _class_!" Tim yelled passionately, standing tall and proud, towering above the small woman, defiant in his actions.

"No you're not~" The woman stated curtly. " _I'm_ teaching these students now."

Tim momentarily disregarded the older, shorter, more inferior woman as he made his way over to the blackboard, noticing that all there was on the blackboard was simply the letters O, W, and L. Tim knew right away that this stood for 'Ordinary Wizarding Level' – an examination which fifth-year students would take to determine whether or not a student would continue taking that class the following year.

Tim turned back to the woman adorned in unnecessary amounts of pink. "Seriously? You're going over O.W.L stuff _now_? It's the start of the year. You should be testing the students on the spells they learned last year."

"I don't need _you_ to tell me what _I_ should be teaching!" She snapped.

Tim suddenly caught sight of a book he hadn't seen before open on Hermione's desk. Tim rushed over and picked it up, reading a little bit of it to himself. "What the Hell is this?" he asked, putting the book back down on Miss Granger's desk. "This is first-year plebeian stuff."

"It's all these students will need to pass their examinations and prepare them for the real world."

"Oh yeah? What if somebody comes at you with _this_!" Tim reached behind him, pulling a Glock from the waistband of his Gi pants. Before the short woman could react, Tim reached out, pressing the pistol against her head. "What now?" he asked, tension filling the room as sweat poured down from the woman's brow. After a few moments passed, Tim pulled the gun away. "Or what if… I had a hostage!" he trailed, reaching over and grabbing the nearest student – Ron – by the collar, and lifting him out of his seat, pressing the pistol against the side of the young boy's head.

"Please, sir, don't!" Ron whimpered pathetically, urine running down his legs, staining his pants.

Tim pistol-whipped Ron. "Quiet, boy! I'm trying to make a point! Now shut up if you don't want your brains blown out!" He shouted. Ron whimpered once more, and Tim tightened his grip. "You know I'll do it!" Tim then focused his eyes back on the woman. "How is anything that you're teaching gonna prepare the kids for this?!"

The silence of the class was broken by the soft sobs of Neville. Many other students began to follow suit, and Tim sighed, lowering his gun from Ron's head.

" _Enough_!" she snapped. "I am Madam Undersecretary Professor Dolores Elvira Jane Umbridge, and I _will_ have order!"

"Shut your mouth, pussycat. And make me a macchiato, pronto!" Tim punctuated his demand by shooting Ron in the right foot, the young ginger howling in pain.

"I will do no such thing! Now leave this classroom immediately before I make you leave by force!" Umbridge yelled, raising her voice to compete against Ron's cries of agony. Other than that, she took no notice of her student's pain.

"Thems be fightin' words, now put up your dukes and let's get down to it, hit me with your best shot!" Tim replied, his fighting spirit almost visibly radiating from his flawless physique.

Umbridge raised her wand without hesitation as Tim prepared himself for the onslaught, tucking the gun back into his pants and raising his fists, readying himself for a fight.

"Stop this, you two! Can't you see you're upsetting the class?!" Hermione cried. Tim took a second to look around the class and saw the familiar faces of his students distorted by fear, huddled together for safety, many of whom were crying. Ron had lost consciousness in a pool of his own blood, tears and urine. In the middle of the scene stood Hermione, her cheeks wet with tears.

At the sight of all of this, Tim lowered both his tremendous dukes and turned to face the door. "Whatever… I didn't want the class anyway…" Tim mumbled defensively as he began to walk towards the door. "But if you do anything to harm the students, I'll make sure you regret it."

"Is that a threat?" Umbridge asked keenly, hoping for an excuse to finish Tim.

"No. It's a promise." and without another word, Tim left the room.

* * *

Tim angrily slammed the door to his room, the Chamber of Secrets, and drew his feet across the cold, damp stonework, walking over to his bed. He was glad that, after having his job and class taken away from him, he still had his old room, the one place where he could be alone.

Before Tim was more than a few steps into the room however, he became aware of another presence in the chamber, not even realizing that a bed had been set up adjacent to his own.

"Show yourself!" Tim shouted, and then asserted "You'd better not jump out and scare me!"

Harry Potter sighed, walking out from behind a pillar. "Jeez, calm down, will you?" he grumbled.

"What are you doing here?"

"Dumbledore's making me stay here, but I don't know why." Harry said dejectedly, slowly walking over to the other bed.

Tim suddenly smiled. "I think I might know why."

"I don't care. I just won't talk to you."

"That's fine." Tim smiled. "As long as you listen." Tim sighed. "Listen, Harry. As Voldemort grows stronger, people like…" Tim paused, "you and I… begin to change. Voldemort can get inside your head, make you start to think and act differently. You understand?"

Harry stayed silent, though hung on Tim's every word, for the young bespectacled boy knew it to be true.

"You've drifted apart from your friends, haven't you?" Tim asked.

Once again, Harry stayed silent.

Tim leaned in closer. "When you're ready to learn, I know of a couple ways to keep Morty out of your head. That's the first step to beating him. The second-"

"Don't you get it?!" Harry snapped. "I don't want anything to do with you! You're a terrible person! I know about how you shot Ron today."

"I thought you hated Ron."

"W-w-well…" Harry stammered. "I might hate him, but I don't want to kill him. I'm not _you_. I'm not a _monster_ who lacks human decency."

"No, you're just a whiny impudent child." Tim retorted. "You can sulk all you want, but the reality is a war is starting, and like it or not, and trust me, _I_ _don't_ , Dumblebro seems to think you're at the center of it all. I might lack human decency, but human decency doesn't mean anything when it comes to war, and trust me, I've been in a few." Tim stood up. "So you can stay down here, and cry or jack off as much as you want, but if you're half the man Dumbledingus thinks you are, you'll pick yourself up and fight."

" _Shut up_ -" Harry's hoarseness was cut short by the back of Tim's hand, the young wizard flying off the bed and onto the ground. Tim briskly walked over to the chamber's entrance, forcefully locking the door, the iron of the door squealing as Tim bent it out of shape, sealing himself and Harry inside.

Tim then turned back to Harry, who was nursing his wound. "Grab your wand," Tim said bluntly, "and _not_ the one downstairs, the proper one. Like it or not, your training begins now."


	25. The Machinations of Umbridge

"Well, this has been a fun day, hasn't it?" Ron sarcastically remarked. "I had to change my clothes twice today. Once after Defense Against the Dark Arts, and again after Potions."

Ron sat with Hermione in the Gryffindor Common Room, the two friends completing the homework that Snape had set for them on their first day. Hermione groaned, putting her quill down.

"I just can't believe that Umbridge won't let us practice spells in our O.W.L year!"

"Wait… I have an idea…!" Ron suddenly spoke up as though he'd had an epiphany.

" _That_ would be a first…" Hermione mumbled.

"No, I'm serious!" Ron said sternly, before sighing. "Look, why don't we go and find my brothers Fred and George? They've already done proper fifth-year Defense Against the Dark Arts."

" _Those_ two?!" Hermione gasped. "They only know flashy stuff, not _real_ magic."

"Well what do you suppose we do then?" Ron asked. "Stick with Umbridge's lessons and learn from a book made for toddlers?"

Hermione let out a shallow breath as her mind took her back to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. "W-we have to find Professor Ihansha!"

Ron's eyes went wide. "What?! That _maniac_?! No way!" the young ginger asserted, subconsciously reaching down and running his fingers along where Tim had shot him earlier that day.

"Why not?" Hermione asked, her voice much sterner. "He's been our teacher for the last four years, and he's taught other fifth-year students in that time. He could help us."

"You were the one screaming for him and Umbridge not to fight, and _now_ you want his help?" Ron asked incredulously. "And have you forgotten that he _shot_ _me_ in the _bloody_ _foot_?!"

Lee Jordan's voice came from behind them. "Is that why you were getting carried through the courtyard on a stretcher?" he asked. "I don't think anyone'll forget _that_."

Ron's face went bright red. "Y-you were in the courtyard?" he asked meekly.

"Yeah, me and a bunch of other seventh-years."

Ron groaned, a lone sweatdrop appearing on the back of his head as he hung his head in shame. "I'm never gonna live this down…"

Hermione visibly sighed, getting up from her seat as she hugged one of her books to her chest. "I'm going to go find Professor Dumbledore. He must know where Tim is."

"Knock yourself out…" Ron muttered. "I'm gonna go to bed."

* * *

Hermione knocked politely on the door to Dumbledore's office, the door gently creaking open, a little ajar as Dumbledore stood, feeding his pet phoenix, Fawkes. "Miss Granger, is everything alright?" Dumbledore asked calmly, his eyes still focusing on his scarlet companion.

Hermione exhaled quickly, trying to be as respectful as possible. "Sorry to bother you so late at night, Professor Dumbledore. I was just… I was wondering why we have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and what happened to Professor Ihansha. I saw him today briefly in class, and… our new teacher Miss Umbridge, well…" Hermione cleared her throat, finding it difficult to say what she wanted to say. From just the first lesson alone, Hermione had already come to hate Umbridge. Taking the confrontation with Tim out of the equation, Umbridge spent the entire lesson talking down to and infantilizing all of the students, learning no real spells and no real theory in the process. This of course was extremely detrimental to Hermione's chances to pass her O.W.L exams.

In spite of no words being exchanged between them, Dumbledore was able to pick up on what Hermione meant. "I'm afraid with things being how they are now at the Ministry, I'm not able to do much about Umbridge. She's been appointed here by the Ministry, and as such, I don't have jurisdiction over her. All I can do is just…" Dumbledore paused, now turning away from Fawkes as well as Hermione, facing the back of the room, "wait until the time is right."

"What about Professor Ihansha, sir?" Hermione asked.

A small smile crept onto Dumbledore's lips as he turned back to the Gryffindor student. "He's in the best place right now. He'll come back when we need him, don't you worry about that. I do think that you should go back to your Common Room now though. I won't be able to do anything should Umbridge find you."

"…Okay…" Hermione nodded, bowing as she turned to leave Dumbledore's office. In truth, Hermione wasn't satisfied at all with Dumbledore's apparent suggestion to simply do nothing. Unlike the majority of the students at Hogwarts, Ron included, Hermione believed that Voldemort had indeed returned as Harry had said. And now that she thought about it, it also explained why Tim had been relinquished of his positon and Harry had been expelled. The Ministry of Magic wanted to try and get rid of everyone who claimed that Voldemort was back. Umbridge teaching students very basic spell theory was just the Ministry's way of trying to save face and pretend that everything was okay when it clearly wasn't.

Although she was partly put at ease by Dumbledore saying that Tim would indeed return in time, she didn't want to just stand by and do nothing. Even though she thought Tim was quite rash to have shot Ron and caused a scene the way he did, she couldn't deny that he had a point. The basic theory she was learning now would not at all help prepare her for the real world. For Lord Voldemort. Hermione cringed, barely able to imagine what the first-year students were learning, if the fifth-year students were re-learning first-year theory.

Perhaps Ron was right to suggest they go and see his older brothers. After all, even Hermione had to admit it would be better to learn at least one spell from them than learn nothing at all from Umbridge.

Running one hand quickly through her hair, Hermione returned to the Gryffindor Common Room with haste, hoping to catch Fred and George Weasley before they went to bed.

* * *

Umbridge sat in her office, surrounded by her pink stone walls and decorative plates depicting kittens dressed in knitted outfits. Gently tapping her fingers against a cup filled with hot tea, Umbridge let out a sigh as she forced a smile onto her face, in spite of the fact that she was alone in her office.

She should've been happy. After all, she'd been able to get Harry expelled from Hogwarts, and now all she had to do was take care of Dumbledore and stroke Fudge's ego while doing so. It was a simple task, but one that irritated her to no end.

She hated it at Hogwarts growing up, getting passed over for becoming prefect and head girl, and even though she held a position of power now, _that_ came with having to contend with the opinions of whiny children and cantankerous teachers.

Umbridge sighed once more, opening up one of the drawers at her desk as she looked over a black, long, thin quill, its end sharpened to a point. Umbridge's smile returned to her face as she closed the drawer, sighing blissfully.

* * *

Hermione returned to the Gryffindor Common Room, thankfully finding that Fred and George were still awake, conversing with Lee about some ideas for pranks they could pull on Slytherin students.

"Fred, George, I need to ask you both something." Hermione said in an almost factual way.

"How's it going, Hermione?" Fred asked.

"What can we do for you?" George smiled.

"Umbridge won't teach us anything practical in Defense Against the Dark Arts." Hermione told them.

"So you want our help?" George asked.

Fred turned to his brother. "What do you think, George?"

"I think we can help you out with that. Meet us in the Transfiguration Courtyard at lunchtime tomorrow." George smiled.

"We'd be happy to show you a thing or two." Fred grinned.

* * *

As fifth-year Charms class let out for lunch, Ron and Hermione made their way to the Transfiguration Courtyard, finding Fred and George standing out in the open, the courtyard otherwise bereft of other students.

"Ah, _there_ you two are!" George smiled. "You ready?"

Both Ron and Hermione nodded.

"Alright, as Professor Ihansha would have us do, let's start with the basics. The best opponent is a wandless one." Fred said, taking his wand out and pointing it at George. "Care to help me demonstrate?"

"I'd be delighted to, Fred." George smiled, doing the same. "Watch closely now."

"That means you, Ron." Fred teased.

"Hey!" Ron shouted, nevertheless watching with Hermione as Fred flicked his wand to the side.

" _Expelliarmus_!" Fred shouted, George's wand flying from his grip.

" _What_ do _you_ _four_ _think_ _you're_ _doing_?!" a shrill woman's voice shrieked from behind them. Hermione, Ron, Fred and George all turned to see Umbridge with her arms crossed and an angry glare across her face.

"P-practicing Defense Against the Dark Arts…" Ron mumbled.

"I _thought_ I told you that you wouldn't _need_ to physically perform spells for class. So _why_ are you doing it?" Umbridge asked.

Fred attempted to explain, "Well, they asked us to, Professor, and we figured that since we'd already done fifth-year Defense Against the Dark Arts, we could help them out-"

"By deliberately going against what I've said?!" Umbridge interrupted. "I'll warn you four right now: to show disrespect to me is to show disrespect to the Ministry. What happened to Harry Potter can easily happen to all of you, so I would tread very lightly if I were you."

"You mean how he was expelled for telling the truth about Voldemort?!" Hermione snapped.

Umbridge suddenly froze, a sullen look on her panic-stricken face. "Don't you _dare_ say his name." Umbridge stated softly, yet firmly, as though under the belief that merely saying his name would cause Voldemort to appear. "Harry Potter was expelled because he attacked a Muggle, using spells that he'd learned here at this very school. As for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, I don't know what you've heard, but if you're insinuating that he's somehow returned, well that's simply not true. Potter is a disturbed individual and whatever he's told you about _him_ is a lie. You do know that, don't you?"

"Yes…" Ron nodded, Hermione's eyes widening as she turned to look at him with disgust. Fred and George stayed silent as Hermione looked back at Umbridge.

"No. Harry said that Voldemort's back, and I believe him." Hermione stated firmly.

Umbridge's left eye twitched, not at all liking being challenged not only by a student, but by a child. "I want to see all four of you in my office, five o'clock this afternoon."

" _What_? We didn't _do_ anything-" Ron tried to point out.

"Raise your voice like that with me again and you'll be serving detention for the whole week." Umbridge warned, before quickly walking off, holding her head high, an air of arrogance exuberating from her short, stubby frame.

Once Umbridge was out of earshot, Ron turned to Hermione in a rage. "Why the Hell'd you have to go and do that?!" He shouted. "The first week of school has barely started and now I've got detention!"

"Is _that_ what you care about?" Hermione asked, sounding almost physically hurt. "Do you honestly hate Harry _that_ much that-"

"Why do you _always_ side with Harry?!" Ron snapped. "He's not even _at_ this bloody school anymore and you're _still_ on his side! What? You just believe _everything_ that he says because _he's_ 'The Chosen One'?"

"It's not just Harry who thinks Voldemort's back! Dumbledore thinks so too!"

"Yeah, and you know what the Daily Prophet's been saying about the both of 'em, right? They're _loonys_!"

Another voice seemed to come out of nowhere. The voice of a young girl with dirty blonde hair. "Sorry, are you talking about me?"

Both Ron and Hermione turned to Luna Lovegood, who was standing behind them with a dreamy, almost unfazed look on her face. "No, don't worry, Luna." Hermione assured her, before turning back to Ron. "Ron, this problem that you have with Harry is just that – _your_ problem – and quite frankly, I can't be around you if all you're going to do is pretend that Harry doesn't exist or openly insult him when _you're_ the one with the problem."

"Well if that's the way you feel, then you can bugger off too!" Ron shouted.

" _Fine_." Hermione stamped her feet as she walked away in a huff, Luna quickly deciding to follow for whatever reason.

Ron audibly sighed. "Damn it…" he muttered.

"Don't worry, Ron," Fred assured his brother. "Hermione will come 'round."

"And don't worry about detention. We've served detention tons of times." George smiled.

"It'll be fine." The twins said together.

But it wasn't.


	26. The 26th Chamber of Ihansha

In just over one week, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had completely changed under the rule of Dolores Umbridge. Through her, the Ministry of Magic had enacted several educational decrees (such as banning extracurricular activities, music, and physical intimacy) which significantly worsened life at Hogwarts, not only for students but for staff as well.

With the Ministry backing her without fear and without question, no one was able to stand up to her, not even newly appointed Gryffindor prefects Ron and Hermione, who had become the first Hogwarts students to get a taste of the wicked woman and her dubious ethics. Dumbledore was strangely absent during this time, stepping in only to save Professor Trelawney from being escorted from the grounds after receiving an Order of Dismissal from Umbridge.

The students however weren't fortunate enough to receive Dumbledore's help, almost all of them save a select few becoming subjected to the Professor's cruel and unusual punishment method, forcing students to write lines using her Black Quill, an enchanted quill of her own creation, used to carve whatever the holder wrote into their skin. Because of this, there would always at least be a small number of students walking the halls with a bandaged hand and a downtrodden expression.

On this particular day, the number of students receiving this punishment was unusually high, with the desks of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom occupied by wincing and tear-stricken students, blood running down the arms of a couple of first-years who happened to have softer, weaker skin than the rest. In this regard, and perhaps _only_ this regard, Umbridge refused to discriminate. Inside the room, all that could be heard was the ticking of the clock, muffled cries of pain, and Professor Umbridge's soft humming as she sat at the front of the room, stirring sugar into her cup of tea and looking quite pleased with herself that she was able to inflict so much pain on others.

It was the same day, however, that Tim and Harry also emerged from their intensive training in the Chamber of Secrets. After about a week, it became apparent to Tim that Harry couldn't survive much longer being subjected to his training methods, and Tim, truthfully, was getting bored of being cooped up for so long anyway.

The warm glow of the sun was appreciated now more than ever as Tim dragged the exhausted young wizard through the Viaduct and walkways of the school towards the Great Hall. Tim expected to see at least a couple of students as he made his way through the school, but he didn't see anyone. After entering the Hall, Tim threw Harry onto the nearest bench. "Try and find something to eat, you need some protein." Tim said, leaving the Vitamin D deficient Harry to fend for himself.

Tim then took a second to look around. The Great Hall was almost empty, save for a few students who looked quite miserable, walking briskly with their heads down, all except for one student who came through, walking with her head held high. Not high as in she was proud of something, but high as in she just didn't care what others thought. She was just happy being her.

"Hey, Luna, wassup?" Tim greeted from across the Hall. Luna turned, seeming a little startled, but after recognizing Tim, the blonde witch smiled and wandered over.

"Hello, Professor Ihansha. It's great to see you again." She smiled. "How are you today?" Luna asked courteously.

"I feel _electric_ , my young friend, but _you_ don't look too good…" Tim replied, noting a bandage wrapped around the blonde girl's left forearm and hand. Tim could see blots of dark, fresh blood soaking through the bandages in patches.

"Oh, that… That would be from Professor Umbridge's punishment. I lost my homework, you see. I think Nargles might have taken it, and I can't find any of my shoes either." Luna said slowly and calmly.

"Umbridge did this to you…?" Tim asked softly, though the fury in his voice was evident.

"Oh, not just me, sir. Anyone that breaks Umbridge's rules gets punished." Luna explained.

"And what about Dumblebro? He's just letting this happen?" Tim pressed.

"I guess so." Luna shrugged. "I haven't seen him in a few days. He doesn't come to breakfast anymore. Umbridge sits in his chair now." Luna suddenly turned, looking over to where Harry was seated, the boy wizard trying and failing to move over to grab something to eat. "Is that Harry? I thought he was expelled. Is he back now?" Luna asked.

"No, he's still expelled, but his guardians didn't want to look after him anymore, so I've taken him in for the time being." Tim sighed. "Listen, it's been fun chatting with you again, but I need to go and pay an old vindictive magician a visit. I'll sort this all out."

"Okay!" Luna chirped, watching as Tim turned away, taking fast, powerful steps as he made his way to Dumbledore's office.

* * *

"What the Hell have you been doing?!" Tim asked, standing in the doorframe, having knocked the door off with a powerful kick.

"Oh, hello, Tim. Yes, I'm fine. How have you been? Of course I have time to chat." Dumbledore sighed plainly.

"Do you want to explain why Luna's out there walking around with massive cuts on her hands and nothing's been done about it?!" Tim snapped. "You've let that Umbitch woman take over, haven't you?"

"The Ministry thinks I'm building an army, Tim. I can't show myself willing to fight against the Ministry in any capacity. At least not yet." Dumbledore said calmly. "You'll just have to trust me."

For one very brief moment, Tim lost complete control of himself, his power overflowing as the entirety of Hogwarts Castle began to shake as though the school had been hit by an earthquake. Dumbledore's eyes widened as the room started to tear itself apart, Tim grabbing the elderly wizard by his robes and pushing him up against the wall, the flawless God of a man bringing his power back under control.

"Trust _you_?" Tim asked with tranquil fury. "I don't think so. You've been keeping lots of things from me, old man. The diary, Voldemort's true identity, and I'm pretty sure there's more you're not telling me. But you know what _really_ pisses me off? The fact that you're willing to let every student at this school get physically abused by some mad woman while you sit here in your ivory tower. You're a coward, and you make me sick." Tim removed his hands from Dumbledore's robes as he turned away in disgust. "If you won't do anything, then I guess it's up to me. And if it's an army they want, it's an army they'll get…"

* * *

Tim stormed through the halls, knowing exactly what he had to do.

Retracing his steps back to the Great Hall, the Professor found himself where he had spoken with Luna. Harry had only moved a few inches from where Tim had left him. Tim walked over to him and lifted Harry up by the back of his shirt. "Hope you've filled your stomach, Harry. We have more work to do." Tim said as he proceeded to drag the boy along the floor.

"I… hate… you…" Harry wheezed, blood dripping from his dry, cracked lips as he spoke. But Tim didn't seem to hear him; he was too busy plotting out his next step. It was only when he left the Great Hall for the second time that he saw dozens of framed proclamations hanging from the outside wall.

"This must be what Luna meant…" Tim whispered. Harry coughed, but again, Tim paid him no mind, instead focusing on each of the educational decrees hanging on the wall. As he read each one, his heart pumped more and more righteous sanguine fluid through his otherworldly vessel.

Dragging Harry behind him, Tim moved quickly out into the Entrance Courtyard, finding that it was much like the Great Hall, mostly empty. The warbling of birds and Harry's rough breathing were the only sounds that could be heard outside. He walked aimlessly around the courtyard for a few moments, before heading out into the exterior walkway, surprised to find Hermione and Luna together, talking with hushed voices, both sets of eyes eventually drawn to Tim's magnificent presence.

"P-Professor!" Hermione stammered. "And _Harry_?!" Hermione sounded positively delighted to see her old friend again, rushing into Harry's arms and giving him a hug. "Where have you two been?"

"I've been training him, but I think Harry's reached his limit in terms of physical strength." Tim told his former students as Hermione moved away from Harry, looking at his pale, yet sturdy build.

Luna nodded, directing her words towards Harry. "You certainly do look more rugged."

"Thank you," Harry breathed.

"Anyway," Tim said as he began looking around, "I've been looking for you, Miss Granger." Tim said, causing the young girl to blush. "How do you feel about teaming up with me to take down Umbitch?"

"Do you know what's going on with her?" Hermione asked softly.

"All I really know is that Umbitch is imposing all these rules and Dumbledouche isn't doing anything to stop her. He says the Ministry's afraid that he's making an army, so I figure let's go ahead and make an army. We can get together a bunch of students that want to learn how to defend themselves and we can teach them. What do you guys think?"

Luna's eyes lit up. "That sounds like fun. It would be like having friends."

"What about Voldemort?" Hermione whispered. Tim paused, Hermione shaking her head. "Luna and I, we both believe you, but… no one else really does." Hermione then turned to Harry, and said quietly "Not even Ron."

Harry gritted his teeth, absolutely livid at Ron's ignorance. It didn't matter to Harry that they were no longer friends, but he'd have thought that Ron would have at least believed him that Voldemort was back. Especially when it was, after all, the truth. "That… that motherfu-"

"Calm down, Harry. Ron's not important, don't worry about him." Tim sighed. "I know it's gonna be difficult to convince everyone, especially with Dumbledick doing nothing to help, but-"

"I know," Hermione interrupted, "we have to try. I'll go around and talk to some people and see what they think about having our own Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons. You leave everything to me." Hermione smiled.

"Are you sure?" Tim asked.

Hermione nodded. "That woman's taken over the entire school. Even if they might not believe that Voldemort's returned, I know the fifth-years will want to be learning spells to help pass their exams. If you can, meet me at the Hog's Head Inn before dinner tonight. I'll bring along whoever I can convince."

"Alright," Tim said. "But please stay safe."

Hermione nodded once more. "Don't worry. I will."

"Oh yeah," Tim smiled. "I heard through the grapevine that you became a prefect. Congrats."

Hermione blushed. "Th-thank you, sir."

* * *

Tim, Harry and Hermione sat in the Hog's Head Inn, looking out at a sea of mixed facial expressions, belonging to a fairly large group of students. Tim recognized all of the students. Ginny, Fred and George Weasley, but no Ron, Colin Creevey and his younger brother Dennis, Nigel Wolpert, Lee Jordan, Luna, Cho Chang, Parvati and Padma Patil, Susan Bones, Michael Corner and Zacharias Smith.

The students were surprised, curious and angry to see Harry sitting with Tim and Hermione, but it was due to the fact that Harry was there that Hermione was able to convince many of the students to come to the Hog's Head Inn at all. All of the students at Hogwarts were curious to know what really went down between Harry and Voldemort the previous year, and unfortunately, Hermione had to use that as an incentive to get potential members to even consider defying Umbridge. Unfortunately, Hermione underestimated just how many people would show up.

Hermione cleared her throat, standing up as she nervously addressed the students, Harry still looking incredibly pale. "So," Hermione began, "thank you for coming. Um… okay, so, Umbridge isn't teaching us anything, and, aside from the older students needing to learn how to perform spells to pass their exams, we also need to learn how to properly defend ourselves-"

"Yeah, and why's that?" Zacharias interrupted, Tim rolling his eyes.

"Voldemort's back, you spastic." Tim said bluntly.

Zacharias looked towards Tim. "Yeah, you keep _saying_ that, but if he _was_ back, you think he'd, you know, start actually _doing_ things. All we've got are what you, Harry, and Dumbledore have said, but no real proof."

Tim looked to Harry. "You took Fredric's body with you through the Portkey last year, didn't you? Where's he buried?" Tim asked, Cho visibly on edge. "Look, if you want proof that Voldemort's back, I'll dig up his body."

"We're not going to dig him up, you sick freak!" Harry snapped at Tim, before turning back to the group. "And I'm not going to talk about Cedric either, so if that's why you're here, you can clear out now." Harry said firmly.

Tim sighed, standing up to properly address the students. "Alright, listen: unless you want me to go and dig up Fredric's body, you're just going to have to trust what we say. Fredric was killed by Voldemort's servant, Wormtail. The boy happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and then he _died_." Tim swallowed, a limpid emotion festering just below the surface. "The unfortunate thing… is that if we don't learn to fight, we're all gonna end up like Fredric, because it seems as though the Ministry is just going to let this happen. So you can either sit here and whine, like Harry, or you can sign here," Tim tossed a sheet of paper to Nigel, "and fight, both with your wands and with your fists."

"Our _fists_?" Zacharias asked incredulously, seemingly having a penchant for arguing.

"You're not skilled enough to use magic without wands, so if you get disarmed, you'll be nothing more than a liability. I can teach you guys how to fight without wands, and Harry can teach you guys all the magic stuff."

Without another word, Nigel signed his name on the paper Tim had given him, before passing it to the Creevey brothers who did the same. The Weasleys then all signed their names, and one by one, all the students at the Hog's Head Inn had signed their names on the paper.

Hermione turned to Tim, and smiled as she reached her hand out to his, intertwining her fingers with his own.


	27. Umbra Under the Umbrella

"This is really cool how we managed to find a secret room in the school that's big enough for us to use for our Defense Against the Dark Arts classes and is also a room that Umbitch doesn't know about." Tim stated, his voice echoing around the Room of Requirement.

Harry turned to him. "Who are you telling this to? We were all here when you found it."

"I know. I just want to make sure we're all clear how _I_ was the one who found it." Tim shrugged, turning back to face the rest of the students, who all looked around the room with wonder. "Anyway, since there's fourteen of you, we'll split the group in half. Seven of you can go with Harry and Miss Granger to practice spells, and seven of you can come with me to practice hand-to-hand combat. I don't care who comes with me, because we'll be swapping eventually anyway."

Amongst themselves, the students got into two groups, one group going off with Harry and Hermione, the other sticking with Tim, who led his group to the back of the room where a long mirror stretched across the wall, separated only by thin vertical lines of mold.

Tim exhaled. "Alright. First thing's first: punching. If you can't even throw a punch, there's no hope for you, so that's what we're going to start with."

Zacharias, whom Tim was hoping he wouldn't have to deal with first off, chuckled. "Are you serious? You're teaching us how to _punch_?"

"That's right." Tim said without a hint of humor in his voice. "Come on. Let's see how you do. Punch me, Zacharias."

"I don't know, Professor, I don't want to hurt you…" Zacharias said smugly, though the boy mentally added that he didn't want Tim to hit him back either.

Tim could barely contain his laughter. "Just do it."

"Well, alright then," Zacharias drew back his shoulder, clenching his fist and then hurling it towards Tim's chest. Tim stood his ground as the puny wizard's fist struck him. The young boy's wrist folded and the sound of the boy's bones cracking against Tim's iron hard body could be heard very clearly by the other students.

Zacharias immediately fell to the ground, cradling his mangled hand as he let out a cry of pain.

"Now you see everyone that if you don't form a proper fist, and hit with the correct part of the knuckles, you can end up seriously injuring yourself." Tim explained to the students standing around him, seemingly ignoring the pain that Zacharias was in, the boy hunched over his broken hand, tears streaming down his face. "To throw a proper punch, you want to form your fist with your thumb on the outside, not too tense but not too floppy. You also need to make sure your wrist is straight and that you only hit with your first two knuckles. And remember that all of your power should be generated through your hips and not your arm. If you do this, your punches will be more powerful, you'll be less likely to hurt yourself, and you won't tire out as quickly." Tim explained to his captivated students, most of them nodding. "Now, can I get another volunteer?" Tim asked softly, looking to the students in front of him. When no one stepped forward, he directed his attention to the first person to catch his eye. "Yeah, you, Lee Jordan, get on up here." the Professor said, motioning for the young man to come forward.

"Pop! Pop! Professor!" Lee confirmed, stepping out from the group of onlookers and squaring off with Tim.

"Now form a fist just like I said and punch me in the chest."

"Yes, sir." Lee replied as he made a fist and hurled it against his teacher's chest. The rest of the students watching on winced, expecting to see Lee meet a similar fate as Zacharias, but instead of breaking his hand, his fist connected with a firm and satisfying thud.

"Good job, Lee! That one almost tickled!" Tim said, beaming at the boy.

"Pop! Pop! Sir!" Lee smiled happily.

"Yes. Pop indeed, Lee. Pop indeed." Tim laughed.

* * *

"Lucius…" Voldemort whispered, his footsteps echoing through the halls of Malfoy Manor as Voldemort appeared opposite Lucius in the dining room, only a thin veil of light reaching the long wooden table that the blond Death Eater sat at.

Lucius's eyes widened. "My Lord, what are you doing here?" he asked quickly, surprised to find the Dark Lord having arrived at his home without warning.

"It's time." Voldemort said bluntly.

Lucius swallowed audibly. "Yes, Master."

Voldemort's crimson eyes narrowed. "I don't want you failing me again."

"Y-yes, Master…" Lucius repeated.

"I'm serious." Voldemort spoke, and then it was as if the room had suddenly become very cold, and the air very thick. "I gave you simple instructions to follow last time, but you failed to locate Karkaroff. Not only that, but since you came back from Aberdeenshire, I've been unable to sense Karkaroff's presence at all. I've been quite generous with you, Lucius, but I'm losing my patience now. Everyone can be replaced, including you. Remember that."

"Y-y-yes… M-m-m-my Lord…" Lucius stammered, Voldemort simply licking his lips. Lucius breathed a shallow breath before nodding quickly, turning away from Voldemort as he desperately tried to focus his mind so that he could Apparate and take care of the task ahead of him.

* * *

Waves rolled and crashed into each other, fierce murky black water surrounding the wizarding prison of Azkaban. Dementors flew above the prison to prevent any captives from escaping by air, while Fluffy, Hagrid's former pet, patrolled the inside blocks on the lower floors to keep an eye on the prisoners in their cells.

Sirius Black looked out from his cell, his almost lifeless eyes meeting those of his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, who stared back at him with unrivalled hatred from her own cell, adjacent to his after a long stretch of concrete and both contained thanks to various enchantments and physical restrictions. Both of them however turned as a sudden explosion ripped through the side of the cell block, Sirius getting thrown back against the wall. Bellatrix got up, the side of her cell having been blown open by the massive explosion.

Bellatrix turned to Sirius's corpse and tilted her head to the sky, laughing manically.

She was free.

* * *

Months passed, and the students of Hogwarts had gone home for Christmas break and come back again. Somehow, Tim's ragtag group of students had not only managed to increase in number, but even did so without the knowledge of Umbridge. Harry and Hermione had been able to teach the students quite a good number of offensive and defensive spells, including the Disarming Charm, the Stunning Spell, the Shield Charm, the Full Body-Bind Curse, and the Reductor Curse among others.

Tim had been quite attentive with the students, teaching them only little more than the basics: stances, breathing forms, basic punches, kicks, and blocks. In spite of this however, the students took to it all rather well, all of them improving their physique even just a little. Even though all of them were nowhere near Tim's level in terms of strength, he was confident that each and every student would be able to hold their own if they got disarmed.

"That was great, everyone! Except for you, Seamus, you were terrible. What kind of name is Seamus anyway?! Seam _ful_ is more like it…" Tim shook his head with disappointment before pointing at the ground, "Go! One hundred sit-ups, now!"

Seamus nodded, doing exactly what Tim asked without question.

Suddenly, the room shook, a hollow sound emanating through the Room of Requirement as the lights flickered. Tim, Harry and Hermione, along with the rest of the students stopped what they were doing, all turning to face the entrance to the room. Another rumble, and all the mirrors along the sides and back of the room shattered. The fluorescent blue light providing sight to the students dimmed until it was gone completely.

"What's going on?" Harry asked.

Nigel cautiously walked towards the entrance to the room, noticing that there was a small hole in the door he could look out from. He gasped, seeing Umbridge, Filch, Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson converging on the other side. Nigel had no time to warn the others however, as Umbridge raised her wand to the door to the Room of Requirement and gleefully shouted " _Bombarda Maxima_!" as a powerful shockwave burst forth from her wand, blowing the door to smithereens and burying poor Nigel underneath the rubble.

The eyes of everyone widened as the dust settled and the cackling of the Slytherin students filled their ears.

"It's Umbridge!" Hermione shouted.

"How'd she find us?" Harry asked.

Tim's left eye twitched. "She must have _really_ wanted to…" Tim then turned back to the kids. "All of you get out of here now!"

"What?! But that woman! She'll-" Hermione attempted to protest.

"I'm not scared of that toad. Now, run! Quickly!"

Draco cackled, running to stand atop the rubble with Crabbe and Goyle. "You're in for it now, _Muggle_!" he spat. " _Stupefy_!"

Tim easily dodged the jet of red light, which shot past him and ricocheted off the wall behind him.

" _Rictusempra_!" Crabbe shouted, but once again, Tim dodged the spell, jumping forward and knocking down Goyle.

"You know," Tim huffed, "I'm not at all surprised you teamed up with Umbitch."

"Excuse _me_?!" Umbridge roared, not at all liking hearing herself being called a bitch. "I should kill you where you stand, you filthy Muggle bastard! _Stupefy_!" Umbridge threw a Stunning Spell at Tim, which the Professor was once more easily able to dodge, though with Draco and his cronies continuously flinging spells at Tim, it was only a matter of time until Tim slipped up. "That's it! _Petrificus Totalus_!"

As Tim was struck by the curse, his body froze up for a moment, before he began to move again, though at a slower rate than normal. Unfortunately though, Draco saw that Tim was recovering rather quickly from the Full Body-Bind and hit him with his own. " _Petrificus Totalus_!" he shouted. Draco and Umbridge continued to fire the curse at Tim, until even Tim's perfect body could do nothing but totally freeze under the effect of the spell. Tim grimaced, dropping to the ground with a thud.

Umbridge breathed heavily before sighing. "Excellent work, Draco. Fifty House Points for Slytherin." She smiled.

* * *

Tim was dragged from the Room of Requirement all the way to Dumbledore's office, where it also happened that Dumbledore was being interrogated by Fudge and several other Ministry employees.

"We've got him, Cornelius!" Umbridge announced as she entered, Pansy pulling Tim inside the room and hugging one of his arms to her chest. Umbridge turned quickly to Tim, and then back to Fudge. "This one's been leading a group of students. Teaching them how to fight, directly going against the educational decrees that you signed off on, and no doubt doing it all in Dumbledore's name!"

"You're in trouble now…" Pansy whispered to Tim.

"Shove off, woman. You have horrible breath." Tim said through clenched teeth. Pansy smirked sinisterly, kissing Tim quickly on the cheek.

"Well we're not stupid, Dumbledore." Umbridge stated in quite a belligerent tone of voice. "Using this Muggle as a cover, a way to spread your will, your lies to others more quickly. But we saw your lies for what they were: a smokescreen for your bid to seize control of the Ministry."

"Naturally, of course." Dumbledore said coyly. "I suppose the jig is up then. The organization that Professor Ihansha put together was, in fact, my idea, and I am responsible for its activities. Tim is not to blame at all. Of course, this is all just a verbal statement. Would you prefer a written confession?"

"I don't think that's necessary." Fudge replied bluntly. "However, for the crimes of conspiracy and sedition, I have no choice but to sentence you to Azkaban for life."

"Without even a trial?" Dumbledore asked, turning away. "That doesn't seem fair to me." Dumbledore sighed before shaking his head. "No, I don't think I want to go to Azkaban. I'm dreadfully sorry."

"You don't have a choice in the matter!" Umbridge yelled.

Dumbledore's eyes twitched, and a small smile broke out on his lips. "Well, I don't know what you _think_ is going to happen here, but… I won't be coming to Azkaban. Or at least, I won't be coming quietly."

Suddenly, Dumbledore's pet phoenix, Fawkes, flew in through the window, Dumbledore raising his hands into the air like he just didn't care, Fawkes coming in to land on his hands as both wizard and bird disappeared in a fantastic burst of fire, knocking Umbridge, Fudge and Pansy off their feet and freeing Tim's body from the effects of the Full Body-Bind.

Fudge and Umbridge got to their feet, looking quite disgruntled. "After him! Quickly!" Fudge shouted, Umbridge following behind him as they rushed out of Dumbledore's office with the foolish hope of tracking down the renegade wizard.


	28. Justice

Life at Hogwarts did not improve with Dumbledore having fled. The Ministry of Magic appointed Umbridge as the new Headmaster, and it was clear to everyone that she had gone mad with power. Hagrid and Flitwick were sacked for being half-breeds, and when McGonagall tried standing up to Umbridge, the Ministry had her forcefully sent away to a place known as Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, which was just a very polite name for what basically equated to a Wizarding Insane Asylum.

Her hypocrisies becoming more and more evident, Umbridge effectively disbanded the group that Tim, Harry and Hermione had formed, whilst also forming her own organization, the Inquisitorial Squad – comprised mostly of Slytherin students – members of which were given special privileges, such as the ability to dock House Points from students, authority over prefects, and freely being able to cast spells at whomever they wished without consequence. Anyone who fought back or tried to defend themselves became subjected to Umbridge's Black Quill and in due time, the Great Hall was filled with the majority of Hogwarts students. However, it wasn't for feasting. The Great Hall became the only place that Umbridge could punish the entire school at once.

Loud, thundering booms, like the sound of cannon, echoed from outside the Great Hall, where inside, Umbridge was subjecting almost the entire school to detention. Umbridge got up from her seat – Dumbledore's seat – at the head of the Great Hall, and nervously walked down to the massive door, which suddenly opened as Fred and George Weasley came flying in on their broomsticks, throwing fireworks about and casting up other different-colored sparks with their wands.

The dreary feeling that had gripped the room left immediately, students beginning to smile and cheer at the display. Umbridge's nostril's flared. "Stop this at once!" she shouted, students rising up from their seats.

"Ready, Fred?" George asked atop his broomstick.

"Ready, George." Fred nodded, tossing a dragon-shaped firework into the air before it exploded with a mighty bang, the smoke and flames rising up and coming together to create a giant dragon, its bright orange eyes singling out Umbridge as it dived down and charged right at her.

Umbridge's eyes widened, and she turned and ran out of the Great Hall, only to get ensnared in the jaws of the dragon as it exploded in a fantastic fireworks display, leaving her physically unharmed, aside from some of her hair getting singed. Umbridge's right eye twitched as Fred and George pushed past her on their brooms.

"So long, we won't be seeing you!" Fred shouted.

"Don't bother keeping in touch, you old bat!" George added, the two brothers flying out of sight.

All the students in the Great Hall rushed out into the entrance courtyard, applauding with great enthusiasm and happiness at what the Weasley twins had done. Even Professor Snape, who was passing through with a group of second-year Slytherins, seemed mildly amused by the turn of events.

Harry, who was standing near Hermione, and had been tortured despite not being a Hogwarts student anymore, smiled until a searing pain shot through his head. Visions of Ron's father Arthur being tortured by Voldemort quickly filled his mind. Harry collapsed onto the ground, Hermione rushing to him. "Harry, are you alright?!" she asked, though her words failed to reach him. All Harry could see was Voldemort torturing Arthur with the Cruciatus Curse, and then, for a brief moment, it was as if Harry had become Voldemort himself, and _he_ was the one attacking Arthur, laughing wildly.

Harry struggled to regain control of his senses, and when the visions finally left him, he found Hermione's face close to his. "Ron's dad," Harry breathed. "It's Ron's dad…"

"What about Ron's dad?"

"He's in danger…"

Hermione's eyes widened, and she helped Harry up and back through the crowd until they reached the entrance hall, where they could talk without others listening in. "What do you mean?"

Harry shook his head. "Last year, I started getting these visions… I started seeing Voldemort in my head. I had a dream where Voldemort was at the graveyard, and then later that year, Cedric died there. If this vision is anything like that one, then Mister Weasley might be in terrible danger."

"Where did you see Mister Weasley just now?" Hermione asked.

"In a dark room, a hallway. At the Ministry of Magic, I'm sure."

Hermione turned away, unsure of what she should do. She believed that Harry saw Arthur in his vision, but there wasn't much they could do about it. Both Dumbledore and McGonagall were gone, and Umbridge had the entire school pretty much on lockdown.

"Hermione?" Harry asked.

"I'm thinking…" she said monotonously. Hermione exhaled. "Okay, we have to tell Ron what's happened, and then we can use the chimney in Umbridge's office to access the Floo Network and get to the Ministry."

Hermione helped Harry to his feet and they made their way back out to the courtyard, the students still cheering. Hermione identified Ron standing with Seamus and Dean, her and Harry making their way over to him. "Ron!" Harry shouted.

Ron's cheerful expression left him almost immediately. "What do _you_ want?" he asked, Dean and Seamus making awkward eye contact between the two of them, both Gryffindors deciding to leave Ron and Harry to themselves.

"It's your dad."

" _Excuse_ me?" Ron asked.

"He's at the Ministry."

"Well of _course_ he's at the Ministry. He works there."

"No, I mean he's being held at the Ministry against his will. He's been kidnapped. Voldemort has him." Harry tried to explain.

"Yeah right!" Ron scoffed.

At that moment though, a patchy-looking owl flew overhead, dropping an envelope from its talons, landing on the ground at Ron's feet. The envelope sprang to life, not unlike Harry's letter from Mafalda Hopkirk, and started to speak. Though this time, instead of the speech of a well-dignified woman coming out from the envelope's 'lips', it was the desperate cries of Molly Weasley.

"Ron, I've got some terrible news, and I don't want you to get too upset, but your father's been kidnapped, and I'm doing everything in my power to get him back! Stay at Hogwarts while I try to find out more! Find Ginny and stick with her! Love, Mum."

Ron's eyes widened, Molly's voice partially drowned out by the cheers of students which _still_ hadn't died down in any capacity. Regardless, he'd heard every word she said, and he knew then that Harry was telling the truth. "Oh my _God_!" Ron suddenly shouted. "What the Hell do I do?!" he whined.

"Ron, I told you, I know where he is. He's still at the Ministry. We can use the fireplace in Umbridge's office to get there, but we have to hurry!" Harry urged.

Ron nodded quickly, following behind as Harry and Hermione made their way to Umbridge's office.

* * *

" _Alohomora_ …" Hermione whispered, the door to Umbridge's office unlocking itself so that Harry could open it. Harry, Ron and Hermione quickly walked over to the fireplace at the back of the room.

" _You're_ not going _anywhere_!" Umbridge hoarsely yelled from behind them. The group turned to see the short woman upon them, with her wand pointed at Hermione. "Trying to sneak off, were you?!" she yelled. "Running to Dumbledore?!"

"No-" Harry attempted to protest.

" _Liar_!" Umbridge snapped, stomping over and moving her free hand back to slap Harry. However, just before her hand made contact with Harry's cheek, she was stopped as a muscular hand grabbed her wrist.

"How _dare_ you raise your hand to _my_ students!" Tim said with incredible venom, having appeared from out of nowhere, tightening his grip on Umbridge's wrist. "It's time I take you out." Tim snatched Umbridge's wand from her grasp and snapped it with ease before punching her in the gut, winding her. Tim then grabbed her by her short, stubby legs and dragged her across the floor and out of her office.

* * *

"Unhand me _right_ _now_!" Umbridge ordered, kicking and screaming as Tim dragged her through the Forbidden Forest, the back of her dark pink cardigan getting stained with dirt. Tim continued to ignore Umbridge, fighting within himself not to kill her. Instead he just kept walking until he reached a clearing, before hoisting her up so that she dangled off the ground. "Put me _down_!" Umbridge screeched.

"Go ahead," Tim taunted, the distant sound of hooves getting closer. "Keep screaming."

"You think this is _funny_?! _You_ _think_ _this_ _is_ _funny_?!" Umbridge roared, although she was powerless to do anything.

Eventually, a herd of centaurs came upon them, bows and arrows in hand; Umbridge's loud screeching having disturbed them.

"Hey!" Tim shouted to the centaur herd. "I brought you guys a present. Fresh meat." Tim threw Umbridge to the ground as the horde of centaurs looked down at her.

A centaur by the name of Magorian grunted, before looking back over at Tim. "What are we supposed to do with her?"

"Whatever you like." Tim smiled.

Umbridge didn't know when to keep her mouth shut however, and snapped at Magorian when he moved closer. "Get away from me, you filthy half-breed!"

Magorian's nostrils flared, tossing his bow and arrow as he reached down for Umbridge. "Half-breed?" he asked.

"What are you doing?!" Umbridge shouted, absolute fear dripping from her voice as she was grabbed by Magorian and hauled away, deeper into the forest until her bloodcurdling screams were overtaken by the trampling of hooves.

Tim smiled, taking a moment to revel in the sounds of Umbridge's cries of terror, before heading back through the Forbidden Forest at a quickened pace.

After exiting the Forbidden Forest and reaching the stone circle, Tim saw that Draco, Crabbe and Goyle were tormenting a group of first-year Ravenclaw students, and that Luna, Neville and Ginny were trying to protect them. "Why are you being so unpleasant?" Luna asked softly, shielding a young Ravenclaw boy from Crabbe. "Can't we all just be friends?"

Draco laughed. "O'course _you'd_ think that, you bloody nutter. They should've taken you to Saint Mungo's when they came for McGonagall."

"Hey!" Tim yelled, encroaching on the group. "None of that talk, thanks."

"Oh, look, it's the Muggle." Draco snickered. "Still sounding really overconfident, I see, especially since I took you down _so_ _easily_ last time."

"Yeah? Is that why Crabbe and Goyle are running away?" Tim asked. Draco turned around to see that Crabbe and Goyle were indeed running away from Tim as fast as they could. When Draco turned back to Tim, he found Tim's fist collide with his face and he dropped to the ground, unconscious. "How's _that_ for overconfident?" Tim remarked, spitting on Draco and turning to his students. "Are you guys alright?"

The first-year students nodded, as did Luna, Ginny and Neville. "Thanks for the help, Professor. What were you doing out here anyway?" Neville asked.

Tim's smile widened. "Let's just say I got rid of some trash that's been hanging about."

" _Professor_!" Hermione's voice came from the covered bridge behind him. Tim turned to see Hermione rushing towards him, Harry and Ron quickly following behind.

"Miss Granger, what's up?" Tim asked.

"We had to come looking for you. If Umbridge had have done anything to you, I wouldn't have forgiven myself." Hermione told him.

"That's sweet, Miss Granger, but you didn't need to worry."

"Where _is_ Umbridge?" Hermione asked.

"I took care of her. She won't be bothering anyone anymore. What were you guys doing in her office anyway?"

"Voldemort's taken Ron's dad hostage!" Harry said, Ginny's face suddenly becoming quite pale as her mouth dropped open.

"What? How do you know that?" Tim asked.

"I had a vision. Voldemort was torturing him."

Tim sighed. "Harry, what did I tell you about the visions? This whole thing could be a trap."

"It's not a trap, Professor," Hermione began. "Ron received a Howler from his mother and she said the same thing; that Ron's dad is missing."

"Alright, so when do we leave?" Neville asked.

"Are you _crazy_? If Morty _has_ taken Ron's dad hostage, then you'll be killed for sure if you try and save him. It's too dangerous. I'll go on my own." Tim said.

"If You-Know-Who has taken my dad prisoner, _I'm_ _going_." Ginny stated.

"Voldemort himself might not even be there. He might have his Death Eaters watching over him. And Voldemort or not, you're still not strong enough yet to fight against adults." Tim tried to reason with his students.

"When you were our age, where were you?" Hermione asked.

"Physical age or astral age?"

"What? Physical."

"I was in a Vietnamese prisoner-of-war camp." Tim said, before sighing, realizing that he'd been in way worse situations than the kids would find themselves in. "Fine, I see your point. Just stick close to me and do exactly what I say."

"Hold on. How are we supposed to get to London anyway?" Harry asked.

Luna smiled. "We fly, of course."


	29. The Warrior's Pride

The evening road of Whitehall was packed with Muggles going about their business, blissfully unaware of what was going on above, Tim, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Luna flying atop the backs of Thestrals high above the clouds towards the Ministry of Magic office in London, or at least, the above-ground location of it.

It was incredibly convenient that the street which housed the visitors' entrance, a red telephone booth, was completely empty. Tim and the others were set down by the Thestrals, Luna giving hers an affectionate rub on its side as she hopped off. "Alright, you said this is the entrance. Well, how do we get in?" Tim asked, him and everyone else getting off of their Thestrals.

"We get into the telephone booth, put seven Muggle pounds into the slot, and then hit the asterisk seven times." Ron explained.

"Well, good thing I always carry some money with me." Tim said, opening the door and getting into the booth. The rest of the group followed and it became a tight fit as Tim followed Ron's instructions as to how they were to get into the Ministry. Hermione, Luna and Ginny gladly edged as close to Tim as possible as the floor beneath them slowly started to give, and the Muggle street disappeared from their sight, to be replaced by black marble and green fire.

"Do we know where we need to go?" Ginny asked, looking out at her surroundings.

"Yeah, I think so." Harry nodded. Ron, who was closest to the door, opened it to get a better look outside. There weren't a lot of Ministry employees walking about, but there were enough to cause them trouble if they were spotted. After all, it was highly irregular for a Muggle to be walking about the premises along with six underage wizards and witches. "We need to get to the lift." Harry explained, pointing to the other side of the hall.

"How are we supposed to get there without being seen?"

Tim turned to Ginny with a smile. "Leave that to me."

* * *

The lift came to a stop. "Level nine. Department of Mysteries." A pre-recorded voice came through a speaker as the doors of the lift opened, revealing a large cardboard box.

"I told you that would work…" Tim's voice whispered from under the box, "An old war buddy taught me this trick."

The box then awkwardly started to shuffle out of the lift. As soon as the box was clear of the elevator doors, Tim lifted the box off of himself and the kids who were hugging close to his powerful body.

"It's just through that door there." Harry said, pointing at a large dark green door at the end of the hallway.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Tim bellowed loudly, completely ignoring the tense atmosphere as he marched up to the door and kicked it open, even though there was a good chance the door could've been unlocked.

The sound of the door crashing to the ground echoed through the large room on the other side of the door as Tim entered, being followed closely behind by the students, seeking the safety and comfort of Tim's hulking muscular body.

The room was huge. It was full of shelves that ran from the floor to the ceiling, each shelf packed with crystal balls. A dim, cold blue light provided minimal viewing distance along the sides of the shelves as Tim and the others walked down the aisle immediately in front of them.

"These are the Ministry's prophecies…" Hermione said knowingly, walking the closest behind Tim.

"Where the bloody Hell is my dad, Harry?" Ron asked, worry and impatience evident in his voice.

"He should be right around here." Harry replied, slightly confused that Ron's father wasn't anywhere to be seen.

The sound of footsteps carried across the grated floor, shadowy figures, Death Eaters, approaching the group from afar, their faces hidden behind their masks. Harry's eyes widened, the other students taking several steps back, not realizing they were quickly becoming surrounded. "You…" Harry muttered, recognizing the pale blond hair of Lucius Malfoy peeking out from behind his Death Eater mask. "Where's Arthur?"

"Arthur?" Lucius mused, "You seem more concerned about him than you do yourself."

Hermione, Ginny and Luna looked around, quickly becoming unnerved as Death Eaters approached them from adjacent aisles. Tim took a quick glance to the side. "No surprise you brought some friends along, Lucy. Not after what happened last time with that random goth chick."

"Where the bloody Hell is my father?!" Ron repeated, stamping his foot down for emphasis.

Lucius chuckled, removing his mask. "Still children at heart, I see… believing in dreams instead of what's right in front of you…"

"What?" Ginny asked.

"Arthur Weasley was never here." Lucius smiled.

"Wait, but what about…?" Ron trailed off.

"The Howler?" Lucius smirked, the maniacal laughter of a female Death Eater cutting through the growing tension like a knife.

"That would be _me_." The woman cackled, removing her own mask.

"Not _another_ one of you!" Tim shouted, referring not to her Death Eater status, but to her gothic exterior.

"B-B-B-Bellatrix Lestrange…" Neville stuttered.

Tim turned to him. "You know her?"

Neville swallowed audibly. "Sh-she's the reason my parents went insane. Her and Barty Crouch Jr!"

Bellatrix licked her lips, her eyes keenly studying Neville. "Ah, Neville!" she smiled, sounding almost relieved to see him, Neville knowing of course that she was simply being jovial to try and wind him up. Unfortunately for him, he fell for it. "I _thought_ it was you. How are _dear_ ma and pa?" Bellatrix asked.

Neville drew his wand rashly, pointing it at Bellatrix, whose cruel smile never faltered. Lucius on the other hand, brought his hands up in mock surrender. "Alright, let's just take it easy now…" he spoke softly, before drawing his own wand and disarming Neville with no effort.

"I want you all to get out of here. I'll hold off these fools…" Tim whispered so that only the kids behind him could hear.

"But what about you…?" Hermione whispered back.

"I'll be fine, these guys are no match for-" Tim was cut off by Lucius loudly clearing his throat.

"We're still here, you know!" Lucius said impatiently.

"Well _I_ was here _first_!" Tim yelled, his words burning with an unreasonable amount of rage. Without even giving Lucius a chance to be confused by his statement, Tim charged straight for the Death Eater, screeching at the top of his lungs like a bat out of Hell. Hermione and the other students took this as their chance to escape, heading for the door on the far wall.

By this stage, Tim's shrieking had reached an incredibly high pitch, so high that some of the Death Eaters couldn't stand it and had dropped their wands in order to cup their hands over their ears. Tim then began to violently swing his arms around in some sort of passionate death mosh. As he drew closer to Lucius, the wizard had no choice but to Apparate away from Tim's powerful arms. One of the Death Eaters standing near Lucius, Antonin Dolohov, was not quick enough however, as Tim's hands found their way to his neck, and with a loud crunch, the wizard's twitching body fell to the floor.

Tim continued his screeching death mosh until he realized that he was alone in the room. "I guess I was too much man for them…!" Tim laughed to himself. He then however remembered the students, running to the door and kicking it open as he jumped through.

He wasn't expecting there to be such a large drop on the other side of the door, but it wasn't enough to faze him as his mighty body crashed to the ground. As Tim stood up, he immediately took in his surroundings. In the center of the room was a large stone archway with some sort of magical aura visible on the inside. It was as though he could hear voices inviting him to walk through the archway.

As his eyes made their way to the edges of the room, Tim spotted his students. Each one was being held hostage by a Death Eater, a wand pointed to their heads.

"Did you _actually_ believe that _you_ , one _Muggle_ , could stand a chance against _us_?" Lucius asked venomously as he emerged from the shadows at one end of the room. "You may be strong, but that strength can only carry you so far." Lucius continued, obviously feeling as though he had the upper hand against Tim. Tim bent down and picked up a rock from the floor. There was a good fifty feet or so between Tim and Lucius.

"What are you doing? Put that down, or else-" Lucius was cut off as Tim hurled the rock at his head, hitting him and blinding him in his left eye. Lucius yelped in pain as he fell to the ground. "Somebody stop him, you fools!" Lucius yelled at his fellow Death Eaters, who were obviously surprised by this unexpected turn of events. Tim took the time afforded by the Death Eaters' confusion to begin making hand signs, focusing his Chakra.

" _Shadow Clone Jutsu_!" Tim yelled, ten shadow clones, corporeal copies of Tim, appearing out of a giant puff of smoke.

"Those aren't just illusions, those are solid clones!" one of the Death Eaters cried out in fear.

Without another word, Tim and his clones dispersed, attacking the Death Eaters who were clearly caught off-guard. As the shadow clones scattered the Death Eaters, the real Tim rounded up the students. "All of you need to leave now! Get back to the surface, find the Thestrals and return to Hogwarts! Quickly!" Tim urged.

"No way! I'm not leaving!" Harry snapped back at the Professor. "If we take down these guys, maybe Voldemort might show up, and then I can avenge Cedric!"

"If he's staying, so am I!" Ron spoke up. "I want to give You-Know-Who a piece of my mind too!"

"If you stay here, you'll die!" Tim yelled over the loud noises of battle. Lucius had cast the Impediment Jinx on one of Tim's clones before trying to hit him with both the Killing Curse and Reductor Curse, but despite being impaired by the jinx, the clone easily dodged both attacks. "Miss Granger, take the others back to Hogwarts, now! Please!" Tim all but begged the young witch. Hermione nodded feverishly, grabbing Ginny's hand as Luna did Neville's, the four of them circumventing the ongoing combat. "Go on, you two!" Tim shouted to Harry and Ron. "Now's your chance!"

The two boys didn't run however, instead joining one of Tim's clones in combat with Lucius. Bellatrix had escaped her Tim clone by Apparating away, though the rest of the clones had managed to brutally beat the rest of the Death Eaters into unconsciousness.

" _Stupefy_!" Ron shouted, Lucius getting knocked back by Ron's Stunning Spell.

Just as Lucius was about to retaliate, Harry called out " _Expelliarmus_!" and disarmed him. Tim's shadow clone struck Lucius in the chest with his palm, the blonde Death Eater toppling to the ground.

Ron breathed heavily. "Is he…?"

Lucius's eyes suddenly shot open, and he drew a second wand from his longcoat. " _Avada_ _Ked_ -" Lucius's Killing Curse was cut short as the real Tim charged forward, attacking him with a Ki-clad uppercut and finally knocking him out.

"Bloody Hell…" Ron muttered, "That was amazing…"

"Yeah…" Harry breathed, turning to the young ginger, "Hey, Ron, I just wanna say I'm sorry about everything."

Ron nodded quickly. "I'm sorry t-"

" _Avada_ _Kedavra_!" the words of Bellatrix carried across the battlefield as a flash of green pulsed from her wand, Ron dropping to the ground.

"Ron…" Harry whispered, hopelessness in his eyes quickly beginning to take center stage to the carnage. Bellatrix simply smiled, watching Harry's legs begin to shake, his body feeling quite heavy as he dropped to his knees, eyes frozen on Ron's dead body.

Harry's nostrils flared as he turned to Bellatrix whose smile taunted the young boy, goading the wizard into attacking her.

"You _bitch_!" Harry suddenly snapped, going to charge at Bellatrix only to find a pair of flawless muscular arms wrap around his chest.

"No, Harry, you can't!" Tim told him. "This is what she wants! She wants you to get angry! Stay strong! Stay clear!"

Bellatrix cackled, before turning and running away from Harry, moving from the Death Chamber at a solid pace.

Harry's blood boiled inside him, and for one instant, he was able to overpower Tim, breaking free from his hold and charging after Bellatrix, who had broken into a run and was laughing manically, her incessant chanting of "I killed Ron Weasley!" only serving to drive him further into insanity, until finally, upon reaching the atrium, Harry could take it no more.

" _Crucio_!" Harry yelled, a deep red light bursting forth from his wand and striking Bellatrix in the back, the witch falling to the ground with a yelp. " _Crucio_!" Harry yelled again, Bellatrix's body contorting as she screamed out in pain. Harry refused to let up, his voice becoming hoarser and hoarser as he continued to cast the Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix, the strength of which seemed to increase with each successive hit.

"Hey, Harry, how about you cool it with the Cruciatus Curse…" Tim suggested, having caught up with the two and hiding that he was a little unnerved, due to the fact that he'd never taught Harry the Cruciatus Curse.

Harry's face jerked, before shouting " _Crucio_!" once again at the top of his lungs, Bellatrix's body arching as she continued to scream.

"Oh, I see. When _I_ want to torture someone, it's wrong, but when _you_ do it, it's okay." Tim shrugged.

" _Shut up_!" Harry shouted, not with his own voice, but Voldemort's. " _She killed Ron_! _She deserves to suffer_!"

Tim had no time to be taken aback as Voldemort's ghostly form seemed to fade in from behind Harry. "Kill her, Harry…" he whispered. "You know the spell… Go on… Kill her…"

Harry's anger suddenly left him as the boy wizard turned quickly to attack Voldemort. However, Voldemort simply disarmed Harry, his wand flying from his hand.

"Nice nose job." Tim snickered. "Who did it?"

"You know _very_ _well_ _you_ _did_!" Voldemort growled, drawing his wand in anger.

"How about tryin' to fight me _without_ the wand, eh?" Tim teased.

A burst of green fire from a nearby fireplace rose up as Albus Dumbledore stepped out into the atrium, a stern, almost cold expression on his face, wand in hand.

"Dumblebro…" Tim muttered.

"You shouldn't have come, Tom. Fudge and the Aurors are on their way here right now." Dumbledore told his former student.

"I won't be here for very long. Don't you worry. Just long enough to kill the three of you." Voldemort snickered.

"C'mon, Morty, it's two against one. You can't win!" Tim shouted.

Voldemort laughed. "It won't be like last time."

Dumbledore pushed both Tim and Harry out of the way as Voldemort took aim with his wand. Bellatrix however seized the opportunity and escaped through the fireplace Dumbledore had arrived through.

Voldemort nonverbally cast the Killing Curse at Dumbledore, who easily dodged by Apparating to the opposite side of the atrium and then Apparating back. Dumbledore then cast the Stunning Spell at Voldemort, which the Dark Lord countered with his own, the spells cancelling each other out.

" _Avada_ _Kedavra_!" Voldemort shouted with rage, Dumbledore meeting the Killing Curse with another Stunning Spell. This time, the spells connected, crackling with powerful dynamism as red and green energy dripped onto the floor. Voldemort flicked his wrist, attempting to direct his spell towards Harry to no avail.

Tim pushed Harry back, got to his feet and charged at Voldemort, leaping into the air and coming down at him with a mighty punch, breaking Voldemort's jaw and knocking him to the ground, the conjoined spell just barely missing him. Voldemort hissed, silver blood spilling from his mouth as he got up, moving his free hand about, once again conjuring up a giant fire snake – this one larger than the one at Little Hangleton.

Voldemort laughed as the serpent lunged toward Dumbledore. Dumbledore rose his wand up and slashed the snake across its underbelly. The snake screeched in pain as it reeled back, its eyes zeroing in on Tim as it winced in fear.

"Look at that." Tim smiled. "This one's afraid of me. I don't blame him." Tim then quickly drove his fist right through the serpent's body, causing it to lose its form as the fire came crashing down.

" _Protego_!" Dumbledore shouted, a barrier rising up around himself, Harry and Tim as the fire harmlessly dissipated. As soon as the fire was gone, the barrier broke and Dumbledore shouted " _Aqua_ _Eructo_!" as a torrent of water erupted from his wand and pushed itself against Voldemort. Dumbledore then twirled his wand about and yelled " _Aguamenti_!" with the water wrapping itself around Voldemort and encasing him within a sphere.

Dumbledore maintained great focus to keep the sphere from breaking as Voldemort desperately tried to break free. Dumbledore's eyes widened as Tim ran forward, diving into the sphere of water and proceeding to knock Voldemort about some more. The confined space within the sphere didn't allow for Voldemort to put up any sort of real defense against Tim, who violently punched and kicked him, his body bouncing off the walls of the sphere whenever he was about to be pushed out.

The water of the sphere began taking on a silver tinge as Voldemort's blood mixed with the water. Voldemort tried to slash at Tim with his wand, but Tim parried the blow with his arm and then punched Voldemort square in the chest, the force of the blow causing the sphere to explode. Tim and Voldemort dropped to the ground amidst a huge puddle of water.

Tim got to his feet first, and went to kick Voldemort in the head, but Voldemort Apparated, once again moving to the end of the atrium and back, facing Tim, Dumbledore and Harry once more.

With his free hand, Voldemort grabbed the bottom of his face and snapped his jaw back into place, more blood dripping from his form. "Your power is waning – I can feel your weakness…" Voldemort licked his wet, lubricated lips.

"Keep telling yourself that." Tim breathed.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed as he poised his wand forward, waves of dark energy exploding forth and aggressively pushing Tim back. Yelling demonically, Voldemort released a ball of incandescent light outward causing all the windows in the atrium to shatter, shards of glass raining down upon the combatants.

Voldemort flicked his wand to the side as all the glass shards stopped their descent towards the ground, instead coming together above Voldemort's head, which he then directed towards his opponents.

Tim moved in front of Dumbledore, intercepting Voldemort's attack as all the glass shards impaled themselves into Tim's skin, gold blood pouring out as Tim tensed every part of his body. A few moments later, Tim suddenly untensed, and the glass dropped from his wounds.

"Is _that_ all you got?" Tim asked softly, Dumbledore stepping forward.

"It is time to end this, Tom." Dumbledore spoke with a calm firmness. "Give up."

Only for a moment did Voldemort's eyes widen. "You do not seek to kill me, old man?" he asked softly. Voldemort snickered. "Above such brutality, are we?"

"If it were up to Tim, there's no doubt in my mind you wouldn't be standing here now. But _I_ know there are other ways of destroying a man – and fates worse than death."

"What a fool you truly are…" Voldemort said passively, before his eyes drifted to Tim and he suddenly smiled. "Though perhaps… you're right…" Voldemort disappeared in a wash, a storm of tiny glass-like particles, similar to those he'd forced toward his three opponents, only smaller. Suddenly, the shards sprang forward, maintaining form like that of his body and before Dumbledore, Harry or Tim could react, the shards forced themselves into Tim.

"No…" Dumbledore muttered, eyes wide and diluted, the elderly wizard knowing exactly what Voldemort was trying to do: take control of Tim!

Tim grimaced, feeling Voldemort's essence flow through him, trying to latch itself onto every fiber of his body. Dumbledore knew that if Voldemort was able to take control of Tim, then both the Muggle and Wizarding worlds would collapse.

"You think _you_ can control _me_?" Tim asked softly. " _I am a Warrior_!" Tim roared, and, with only his willpower, forced Voldemort and his shards out of his mind and body.

The shards reformed, Voldemort's form hazy and weak, completely at a loss against Tim's Warrior Spirit. Voldemort breathed heavily, watching beads of eager sweat run down Tim's bulging muscles.

Several of the fireplaces began to spark with green flames as Minister Fudge, along with several high ranking Ministry officials came out into the atrium. Fudge took one look at Voldemort and froze like a helpless child. Knowing there was no possible way he could win now, Voldemort quickly got to his feet, backing away before disappearing in amongst a whirlwind of blood red mist. Fudge could no longer deny the truth. He'd seen Voldemort with his own eyes.

"He's back…" Fudge muttered breathlessly.

Tim turned to him. "No shit, Sherlock."


	30. Expired Fudge

The floorboards of the dwelling creaked underneath heavy, uneven footsteps as Tim, Dumbledore and Harry walked through the hall. Tim tensed his gorgeous muscles, squeezing his right hand so tight that gold blood ran from his flesh. The scar on his chest burned like an irreverent fire from the depths of Hell.

"I…" Dumbledore stopped, " _We_ … will need to return to Hogwarts in time. For now, we can rest here, and plan what we're going to do." The three of them reached a room plastered with ugly green wallpaper, three chairs stationed in the center of the room. Dumbledore ushered for Tim and Harry to sit, which they did. Harry though, seemed to barely register Dumbledore's command, and while still fulfilling it, seemed to be lost inside his own head.

"Does it really matter?" Tim asked. "I mean, I got rid of Umbitch, but that won't stop Fudge from bullshitting his way into covering up everything that's happened."

"Fudge saw Voldemort with his own eyes, Tim." Dumbledore spoke calmly. "There's no way he'll be able to deny what's happened. And even if he does, the Aurors saw him as well. If he wants to keep what integrity he has left, he'd do well to admit the mistake he's made. The choice that-"

" _Shut_ _up_!" Harry suddenly snapped, his voice coated with sadness and anger. "Ron's dead! Ron's _dead_!" he repeated. "He was my best friend." Harry's voice started to quiver. "My best…" Harry trailed off, tears welling in his eyes, bawling incessantly.

Tim paid Harry no mind however, instead turning back to Dumbledore. "You know, I still haven't gotten my prize money for winning that tournament." Tim said, running his fingers across his scar. "Wasn't I supposed to get a thousand Galleons or something?"

Dumbledore opened and closed his mouth several times, before nodding quickly. "Y-yes, of course. I can take care of that." Dumbledore then turned to Harry, who was weeping to himself, head in his hands. Dumbledore put a hand on his back. "Don't be ashamed to cry, Harry. The fact that you're able to feel these emotions proves in many ways how much stronger you are than Voldemort."

Harry's body twitched, himself filled with a white hot rage. Without even thinking, Harry hurled a fist at Dumbledore. Tim however caught the fist, smacking Harry roughly on the ulnar nerve in response. Harry cringed, trying to pull himself away, but Tim wouldn't let go. "You petulant child. I warned you. I told you this whole thing might be a trap. I taught you how to resist Morty's influence, and you chose to ignore what I taught. I was well-prepared to go on my own, but you insisted on coming, and you put everyone else in danger. You disobeyed my orders and refused to retreat, and because of that, Ron died. You have no one to blame, but yourself-"

Tim was suddenly struck by Harry's free hand, getting punched square in the nose. Tim simply roared, unable to control his own anger, and knocked Harry to the ground, breaking his jaw and taking out some of his teeth. Tim then leaned over, spitting on the back of Harry's head.

"Tim…" Dumbledore muttered.

"Don't even _try_ fighting me, Harry," Tim said coldly. "You'll never win…"

Harry breathed heavily, rising to his feet and hurling another fist towards Tim. Tim caught the blow, a snap echoing throughout the room as Harry's fist collided with Tim's cupped hand.

"What did I just say, Harry?" Tim asked. But as the tears streamed from Harry's emerald eyes, cloaking his face in aquatic suffering, Tim saw the pain in his eyes, and he finally understood. Tim relented his grip on Harry's fist, allowing the boy wizard to punch him in the face. Tim knew that Harry would never truly be able to damage his flawless body, but he hoped that Harry would be able to get everything out of his system. He had felt the same after all. When Jemma died, Tim wanted so badly to just destroy anything in his path. He wanted someone, something to be able to take all the pain away, but nothing did. Nothing could. He had to rely on himself. He had no one else. Tim knew Harry needed some way to release his anger, to make sense of it all, or he'd become swallowed up by his own emotions.

Harry continued to punch Tim in the face and chest, his hands feeling as though he was punching an unmoving wall of steel, continuing to scream incessantly about Ron. Dumbledore watched in silence for several minutes until Harry had become absolutely exhausted and collapsed onto the wooden floor beneath him.

* * *

Tim and Dumbledore looked at Harry in relative silence, the young boy having been tucked into a nearby bed by Tim. "What do we do about Harry?" Tim asked softly, glancing over at him.

"Harry's spirit is broken from the loss of his friend, and I'm afraid he may never recover. It's over, Tim."

Tim narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean, 'it's over'?"

"If Harry were to come back to Hogwarts, he would need to repeat his fifth year and pass his O.W.L exams. I had planned to recruit an old friend of mine to come back to Hogwarts as well – teach Potions – but that all seems quite pointless now. Harry's not in his right mind anymore."

Tim shook his head. "This all could have been avoided if he had have just-"

"It's not his fault, it's mine. I pushed for everything to happen, and Harry couldn't take it anymore. I should have known placing the fate of the world on him was a bad idea. You and I know what it's like to fight, but Harry does not, and even though I know you've tried to teach him, it seems as though he doesn't really want to learn. There's more to fighting than just brute strength. It was your willpower that was able to defeat Voldemort, after all. Not your muscles." Dumbledore's pupils dilated a little, staring longingly at Tim's gorgeous biceps. For a moment, he wanted to caress them.

"I still can't believe he was able to fight against the both of us almost equally."

"Voldemort _has_ improved," Dumbledore mulled, refusing to take his eyes from Tim's arms just yet. "A lot quicker than I thought he would…"

"He was stronger than when I fought him at the graveyard." Tim noted, Dumbledore finally meeting Tim's eyes with his own. "When I threw my first punch at him, that should have killed him… but all I managed to do was break his jaw…" Tim grimaced, curling both his hands into fists. Although Tim didn't want to admit it, maybe Voldemort _had_ become stronger than him. "He was wrong about one thing though… it _was_ like last time. That bastard escaped. I don't know _exactly_ how much stronger Morty's become, but whatever gap there is between our powers, I'll make sure I close it."

"There is," Dumbledore hesitated, "one way to weaken Voldemort."

" _Weaken_ him?"

Dumbledore nodded slowly, his eyes veering from Tim's for a moment. "Though I'm not quite sure if he really _has_ done it."

"If who's done what?"

Dumbledore got up from his seat and ventured over to the door. "I should probably go and see Slughorn. He knows, and he needs to tell me."

"What are you talking about? Who's Slughorn?" Tim asked, rising from his seat.

"I need to go."

"No way!" Tim snapped, grabbing Dumbledore as he went to leave. "Stop being so secretive! You asked for my help in beating Voldemort and you've constantly kept me in the dark! How the Hell am I supposed to help you if you won't tell me what's going on?!" he barked. Harry shifted, stirring slightly as Tim and Dumbledore looked over at him. Tim fought to calm himself, closing his eyes and exhaling quickly.

"It's nothing for you to worry about, Tim. Slughorn was the colleague I spoke of earlier, the Potions teacher. I just need to pay him a visit soon, that's all. It would only be for a quick visit. After all, now that Umbridge is… gone, I suspect I will be returning as Hogwarts Headmaster, and that would leave the Defense Against the Dark Arts post open again. Would you like your old job back?"

"I course I would, but this time I'll be doing things differently. We're at war now." Tim said firmly. "There's no time for _theory_ or _exams_ anymore. If we don't kill Voldemort, these kids won't have a future. All these kids could be as book smart as Miss Granger, but that won't mean anything when the Death Eaters start rounding them up."

"Do what you feel you must, but don't push the children too hard." Dumbledore said, looking over at Harry. "Right, I really must get going now. If I do not return, it's simply because I've been caught up with a few things, and if that's the case, I'll see you once the school term has begun."

"So what am I supposed to do then? Just stay here?" Tim asked.

"Why don't you use this time to train?" Dumbledore suggested. "You said it yourself. There's a gap between you and Voldemort. And you can train Harry too, if he's willing." Dumbledore then gave a small nod to Tim, before Apparating away.

Tim turned back to Harry, who seemed to now be sleeping peacefully in his bed, and sighed.

* * *

"How the _Hell_ did this happen?" Fudge asked himself, barricaded in his office as he hid from the throng of Daily Prophet reporters, as well as the general public, who were less than happy to find out that they'd been lied to for a whole year. Fudge sighed, his wrinkly skin looking dry and crusty, small tears beginning to make themselves known in his eyes. "What am I to do? What _am_ I to _do_?!" Fudge repeated, throwing his hands to his face. "They'll call for my resignation for sure, I-"

Fudge's rambling was cut off as a brick flew through the back window into his office, before the brick had transfigured itself into a Wizard Cracker, promptly exploding, and lighting a small fire on the moss green carpet in Fudge's office. Fudge looked around, quickly rushing to the window and performing the Mending Charm. The tiny hairs on his body stood up, the soft, yet commanding voice of a familiar colleague filling his ears. "…Fudge…"

"B-Bartemius…" Fudge quickly turned around. "How did you get in?!" he shouted, though his body was shaking, "I cast-"

"I agreed with what Dumbledore said…" Bartemius cut him off. "And you had me fired…"

"Y-yes, I-I know, and I'm sorry-"

"You let _him_ build up his army, and you threw away any resistance we tried to give."

"Well, yes-"

"And now that you've been caught out on your lies, you're sitting here in your office when _people are demanding answers_!" Bartemius suddenly snapped, causing Fudge to flinch.

"What am I supposed to _do_?!" Fudge whined.

"You should have believed Dumbledore. He's a good man."

"I thought he was after my job-"

"Oh, _nobody_ wants your job, Fudge!" Bartemius yelled, "Dumbledore just wanted you to tell the truth when it mattered." Bartemius turned away. "Because of your negligence, we're entering into this war at a huge disadvantage." Bartemius then turned back to Fudge. "Your last order of business will be to reinstate me as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Those followers of You-Know-Who that you caught have to be dealt with."

"We can't kill them, Bart-"

"Oh, no? We can't?" Bartemius asked, "You had some psychopath torture school children for not handing in their homework on time."

"What are you talking about?"

Bartemius's face dropped. "You really have no idea what's been going on, do you?"

"No! I d-I don't!" Fudge shouted, his voice breaking. "I don't know what's-" Fudge suddenly stopped, dropping to the ground, weakly reaching for his chest, gasping for breath. It was obvious that the stress had taken its toll on Fudge, his heart no longer able to support the strain he caused for himself. Fudge let out one final desperate breath before the light left his eyes.

Bartemius stood wide-eyed, staring down at Fudge's body. "F-Fudge?" he asked softly, but of course, Fudge didn't reply. He couldn't.

The various charms and protections Fudge had cast on his office became dispelled due to his death, and Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had been banging on the door, was finally allowed to enter. "Minister-" Kingsley froze as he saw Fudge's corpse lying on the office floor.

Bartemius turned to Kingsley with a tense smile and a nervous laugh. "Kingsley, you wouldn't believe what's happened here…"


	31. About That Age

A cold, chilling air swept through the Great Hall, students and teachers gathered for the Start-of-Term Feast. The atmosphere of the place was completely different, even worse than when Umbridge had taken control of the school. There were only about half the usual numbers of students at Hogwarts, supposedly because many parents were afraid of what was to come with Voldemort. Even Tim, who usually sat naked (or at the very least shirtless) in the Great Hall, showed up wearing decent clothing, consisting of a denim jacket over a white T-shirt, a pair of acid-washed jeans and combat boots.

The usual anticipatory schoolyard chatter of exams, studying, dating, and Sorting of first-years was replaced only by talk of Voldemort, and a potential Second Wizarding War. Even as Dumbledore took to the podium to address the students, he was barely paid any notice. It was only after the elderly wizard had cleared his throat seven times that the majority of the room's attention was drawn to him.

"Good evening, and to all the first-year students here, I am Albus Dumbledore, your Headmaster. It's great to see you all here." Dumbledore's tone attempted to severely undercut the obvious melancholic tenor the room had taken. "I stand before all of you tonight, more gracious than ever before to see you staring back at me, especially in light of… recent revelations." Dumbledore spoke softly, almost morbidly, before his tone suddenly changed again, back to a more cheerful one as he addressed the group of first-years facing the High Table. "First-years, please find your table as soon as you are sorted into your house." Dumbledore instructed, and then, as though it had done every year before, the Sorting Hat came to life and started singing.

The Sorting Hat's song, more or less an impassioned plea that all students, regardless of House, stick together in the troubled times ahead, was ultimately lost on Tim. The young Professor, forever unmatched in male beauty and grace looked out at the Gryffindor table towards Harry. The poor boy spent most of the summer period crying or sleeping, and was absolutely opposed to training. He wasn't even going to come back to Hogwarts at all, but as it was the only place he (or anyone else, really) his age could go and be safe, he had no other choice. Tim noticed Hermione's eyes meeting his, a sullen expression across her face. Tim's eyes widened.

Ron's spot at the table was empty.

It had only become apparent to Tim when he saw Ginny sitting at the Gryffindor table that he wasn't even sure how she or Hermione had found out about Ron's death. After all, they'd been asked to return to Hogwarts before he'd been killed, and neither himself nor Harry had spoken to them at all during the summer break. Tim assumed though that the Weasley family at the very least had to have found out, and were probably told by Dumbledore when he went off to visit Slughorn. Now that he thought about it more, Tim wasn't sure what exactly went on, as he hadn't seen Dumbledore since he left that dingy place to go and visit Slughorn. Well, until now, of course.

As Dumbledore sat back down in his seat, Tim caught a glimpse of the elderly wizard's right hand, and his righteous heart skipped a beat. His hand was black, as though his skin was moldy. Tim's chest started to burn and he shivered. In spite of the Sorting Hat's uplifting song, Tim couldn't shake the feeling of dread. He and Dumbledore locked eyes for a moment, nodding to each other, as the song finally ended, and the new first-year students began getting sorted into their Houses.

* * *

"Right," Tim sighed, addressing his class. "So, some of you might think you have the wrong timetable, or that there's been a room conflict, but that's not the case. The reason why all of you are here is because there are simply not enough students to justify having separate classes for each individual year."

The mass of students, a mix from every year, looked around aimlessly. The older students were delighted to see there were younger students in the class, because they thought that meant the work overall would be easier. The younger students however were concerned, and thought that they'd been just thrown into the deep end, as it were. Neither situation, it turned out, was the case.

"Now, I'm not going to beat around the bush. Voldemort has returned, and he's building an army, probably as we speak." Tim said firmly. "And while you are safe at Hogwarts for now, venture outside these walls and you could very well come face to face with a Death Eater. And if that happens, you need to be able to defend yourself." Tim's eyes wandered across the room, catching three empty seats, before looking down at the class attendance list. Scanning the list and then looking out at the class once more, he immediately noticed that Harry, Hermione and Draco were absent. "Alright, before we begin… sixth-years, do you guys know where Harry, Miss Granger and Draco have gotten too?"

"I haven't seen Draco since breakfast this morning, sir." Pansy said with a regrettable tone, as no one else seemed fit to speak up. She'd actually become quite smitten with Tim, but was hoping to be able to fly under the radar after teaming up with Umbridge the year before.

"Alright," Tim sighed, locking eyes with Dean. "You know where Harry and Miss Granger are?"

"N-no, sir."

"Damn it…" Tim grumbled, marking the three as absent before looking back to the class. "Okay then, let's get right to it…"

* * *

Harry sat alone on his bed in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory, his eyesight blurred as he stared down at the foot of Ron's old bed, tears streaming endlessly from his eyes. He still couldn't believe it. Even though it had been months since it happened. He wanted, he expected Ron to be sitting on his old bed in the dormitory, chatting with him about Hermione's obsession with House Elf liberation, or how Professor Flitwick was giving him a hard time about Charms. Harry's breathing quickened. The last conversation they'd had together in the dorm was Harry insisting that he didn't put his name in the Goblet of Fire, with Ron telling him to piss off.

Harry whimpered weakly, rubbing his palms against his eyelids.

"Harry…!" Hermione said with an impossibly loud quietness.

"Hermione," Harry quickly sat up, wiping the tears from his eyes, "what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"As should you," Hermione said quite rightly. "It's just… we haven't spoken all summer, and… I want to know if… you know, you're doing okay, or if there's anything I can do to help you." Hermione said softly, Harry lifting his head to face her. "I hate seeing you like this." She said, sitting down beside Harry.

"I just can't believe it…" Harry muttered. "I'll never see him again…" Harry started to breathe faster. "When we were sitting in the Great Hall last night, I just expected him to come running in and sit down beside me, and… I know he's never going to…"

"I know. I still can't believe he's gone either." Hermione agreed. "But it's not your fault-"

"No, Hermione, it is!" Harry told her. "I let this whole thing with Ron get way out of hand until it was too late for me to do anything about it!"

"Even if you wanted to apologize to him back then, he'd have probably still been angry with you. He got stroppy with me last year when I took your side about V-Voldemort being back. I told him that he was overreacting about everything, but he wouldn't have a bar of it." Hermione put one of her hands on Harry's leg. "Don't beat yourself up about it."

"Tim told us to leave and we didn't." Harry said quickly. "At the Department of Mysteries. We both should have left with you and Ginny."

"You had no idea he was going to die."

"No, but I could have stopped it." Harry said, tears filling his eyes once more. Hermione frowned, seeing the distress on Harry's face.

"Hey, look at me…" Hermione cooed, Harry doing as he was asked, the boy wizard being met with a hug. "You're not alone…" she told him.

Harry sniffed, giving into the hug. "I'm so glad I have you, Hermione…" Harry whispered.

"I'm glad I have you too…" Hermione said back, pulling away from Harry and smiling at him. Their gazes hung on each other's eyes for several moments, before the two of them leaped at each other, making out with each other like the horny teenagers they were.

Harry instinctively reached for Hermione's left breast, cupping and squeezing it. Hermione moaned with reverberating passion, reaching around for Harry's backside as she licked Harry's tongue with her own.

The two of them were lost in bliss for several minutes, totally consumed by their lust and concern for each other. They both felt empty, as though a hole within them had been created by Ron's death, and hoped that they'd be able to help each other heal. Harry was so alone, so troubled, so filled with angst, Hermione so lost and uncertain. But they took comfort in the fact that they had each other. It was all that they needed. It was all that mattered.

The horny teens didn't hear light footsteps carry themselves up the steps, all other sounds blocked out by their incessant moans and the cracking fireplace in the center of the room. It was only when Dumbledore cleared his throat that the two teens broke apart in earnest, their faces beet red with embarrassment.

"Sorry, I… I didn't mean to interrupt." Dumbledore said. "You're both at that age now. I should have assumed when I heard-"

"No, no. That's quite alright, sir." Harry said quickly, wiping some of Hermione's drool from his lip.

"Can we do something for you, Headmaster?" Hermione asked, running her hands through her hair.

"You can." Dumbledore nodded, stepping forward. "I have a job for you both…"

* * *

Draco held his breath, pressing his back to a pillar as Sprout and Hooch walked by, the blond-haired wizard waiting until he was sure there was nobody else around. He then slowly brought himself away from the pillar and continued towards the storeroom opposite the Astronomy Tower.

"Hey, Draco!"

Draco froze, the little hairs on his body standing up as he turned to face the Muggle Professor. "What do _you_ want?!" Draco snapped.

"You weren't in class today."

"Yeah, so?"

"So… is there a _reason_ you skipped class?" Tim asked.

"Don't talk to me like you care-"

"I don't." Tim said bluntly. "It reflects poorly on me if my students don't show up for class, and we barely have enough students to warrant having classes as it is!"

"What, are you worried you're going to be out of a job?" Draco snickered. "If I were you, I'd be lucky I had one for so long in the first place, especially when you don't even know any magic. And if you think for even one second that I'm going to waste my time going to classes, especially _your_ classes, you're delusional." Draco stepped forward towards Tim. "You think you're so powerful, don't you? That you're the strongest person there is! That you can get away with anything while Dumbledore's around!" Draco lowered his voice. "But times are changing, Muggle. And you're not the only one that's been chosen to fulfill a duty."

"Ooh… ominous…" Tim licked his lips, not at all taken aback by Draco's speech. In fact, he was rather amused by it.

"Yeah," Draco said, nodding quickly. "I saw your weakness last year. And I finally realized… you're nothing…"

Tim simply smiled. "Is that so? You're talking awfully big for someone whose power comes from a stick."

Draco's face became completely taken with a seriousness he'd never shown. "You really have no idea…"

"I'm not gonna debate things with you, Draco. We're gonna be at war soon, and if you're gonna fight with us, you'd better show up to class next time."

"Stay away from me…" Draco muttered, moving past Tim, not even caring anymore if the gloriously handsome Professor saw where he went. Tim watched Draco walk away, until the young wizard was out of sight.

* * *

The door to the storeroom creaked open as Draco entered, his cold eyes diluted, sweat running from his forehead and down his brows. He exhaled shakily, looking around at various magical objects. A mirror to see one's deepest desires, a wardrobe to a land filled with snow, a trans-dimensional bamboo boat, and finally, an old Vanishing Cabinet barely hidden underneath a dusty tarp.

Draco walked up to it quickly, drawing back the tarp as a cascade of dust flew from it. Draco then pointed his wand at the cabinet, lips curling in a sinister yet nervous smile as he whispered the incantation he'd been told to recite.

" _Harmonia Nectere Passus_ …"


	32. Super Kawaii Dobby Fun Time

There was not a Dementor in sight patrolling the cell blocks and outer areas of Azkaban. Instead, a far more brutal and ruthless force walked down the halls, followed by two Aurors who had apprehended Death Eaters Vergilius Gibbon and Lucius Malfoy. Bartemius smiled, brandishing his wand as the group stopped, Gibbon and Lucius struggling in the grasps of their captors, physically wandless and spiritually broken.

Bartemius tapped his wand against the locked door of an empty cell, which suddenly unlocked and opened. Gibbon was then thrown into the cell, the door locking behind him. Gibbon collapsed as Bartemius knocked him out with the Stunning Spell. Moving along to another cell, Bartemius unlocked that cell's doors and threw Lucius in, who groaned in pain as he briefly rolled across the cold hard floor, his face darkened by severe bruising.

Bartemius's eyes narrowed. "Fudge was a fool to trust you…" he simpered.

"I'm not going to be here forever… He'll come for me…" Lucius whispered. "The Dark Lord…"

Bartemius chuckled. "You're _not_ going to be here forever." He agreed. "But you won't be leaving here alive. No… I'll be sure to make your last moments here painful ones. You'll scream louder than my Squib brother Owen Crouch's cow when it got caught in his shredder."

"What?"

"And you deserve everything you're going to get." And with that, Bartemius knocked Lucius out with the Stunning Spell.

* * *

Dumbledore smiled as Tim barged into his office. "Ah, Tim! Looking for Mister Potter and Miss Granger, are you? I'm afraid you've just missed them. I've sent them to go on a little treasure hunt for me."

"What?! While there are _Death_ _Eaters_ lurking about?!" Tim snapped. He'd come to tell Dumbledore about his conversation with Draco, but was completely taken aback by Dumbledore having seemingly put Hermione in harm's way. "Where'd you send her?! I have to go save her!"

" _Save_ her?" Dumbledore asked incredulously. "Miss Granger's _more_ than capable of taking care of herself."

"Why are you getting her to run errands for you anyway? Why have you sent her to go gallivanting outside Hogwarts?"

"I knew if I asked you, you'd say no."

It was the final straw for Tim. He'd been led around the whole time since arriving at Hogwarts, always being kept in the dark, but Tim couldn't let it slide anymore. Not if it involved Hermione, who reminded Tim so much of his sister Jemma.

"Enough of the secrecy! What aren't you telling me, old man?!"

Dumbledore sighed. "Many years ago, when Voldemort was known as Tom Riddle, and he walked these very halls as a student, he spoke to Slughorn about creating multiple Horcruxes for himself."

"What's a Horcrux?"

"An object which contains a piece of someone's soul. I knew Voldemort had created _one_ Horcrux for himself, many years ago, but what I didn't realize was that Voldemort had actually split his soul several times into many different items." Dumbledore exhaled, opening one of the drawers at his desk. "I happen to have one of his items. A ring belonging to his mother, Merope." Dumbledore took the ring out and placed it on the desk for Tim to see. "I tried to destroy it but, as you can see," Dumbledore showed Tim his black, almost scaly hand, "Horcruxes are quite difficult to destroy."

Tim chuckled. "So _that's_ what that's about. I thought you had wizard psoriasis or something."

Dumbledore joined Tim in brief laughter. "Unfortunately, no. You see, not only does part of Voldemort's soul reside in the ring, but some of his strength does as well."

"So… what does that mean? Does that have something to do with how strong Voldemort's gotten?" Tim asked, scratching at his scar, experiencing tinnitus as he looked down at the ring. "I mean, it can't just be me, can it? I can't have gotten weaker, he has to have gotten stronger."

"I'm not quite sure," Dumbledore paused. "All I know is that even if we were to destroy Voldemort's physical body, he would still technically be alive. Conversely, destroying a Horcrux would destroy a part of Voldemort's soul and weaken him terribly, but you take so much pride in your own strength. I knew you wouldn't want to destroy any of the Horcruxes, much less find them. You can understand why I didn't tell you, can't you?"

"So what? You thought I wouldn't do it, so you sent _Miss Granger_ to do it?"

"She's not alone. She has Harry with her."

"How does that make it better? Harry's not in the right frame of mind to be doing anything! Miss Granger's a smart girl, but she can't take on hordes of Death Eaters, find those Horcruxes _and_ worry about Harry at the same time! Harry's not gonna want to defend himself, he'll just charge headlong into anything without thinking. Trust me. I felt like that when I lost my sister."

"As did I, Tim…" Dumbledore spoke softly. Silence hung in the air for a long time, until there was a small knock at the door. The door then creaked open, a small house-elf holding a tray walking in. Dumbledore's eyes widened as he turned to address the house-elf. "Ah, Dobby. What brings you here?"

"I have a drink for you, Headmaster, sir." Dobby bowed, Dumbledore raising an eyebrow before reaching down to take the drink from the tray.

Tim's face lit up at Dobby. "Oh my God, you're so damn _kawaii_!" He shouted genkily.

"E-excuse me…?" Dobby mumbled, his large glazed-over eyes looking towards Tim.

"Can I keep you?" Tim asked eagerly.

"N-no…" Dobby said quickly. "I-I must return to the kitchen now. Goodbye." Dobby bowed once more, leaving Dumbledore's office as the wizard eyed his departure with a slight disquiet.

"Damn. That thing's pretty cute…" Tim muttered.

Dumbledore took the drink he had been given and poured it onto the floor. "Something's wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"Dobby normally refers to himself in the third person."

"Oh man!" Tim gushed. "Dobby's gone from kawaii to _airashīdesu_!"

"Wh… what?" Dumbledore blinked several times before shaking his head. "N-no, Tim, that's not… Listen, something's obviously happened, and I need to go and sort this out."

"Dumblebro-"

"We'll talk later, Tim." Dumbledore brushed Tim aside, getting up from his seat and leaving his office.

Tim looked down at the puddle on the floor, sighing. "Alright, don't worry! _I'll_ clean it up!" he announced to the empty room, before proceeding to do just that.

* * *

Lucius's head ached as his vision slowly returned to him. Even though his body felt like lead, he forced himself to move. As his eyes focused, he found that he was still trapped in his cell, but was now restrained to the wall by chains. His fellow Death Eater Gibbon was still out cold, but from the look of things, the two of them were alone on the floor. There were still no other prisoners in any other cells, and no Aurors nearby to keep watch.

Shivers ran down Lucius's spine, the blond wizard looking over at his left arm, the Dark Mark staring back at him from underneath his ragged clothing. It was as though he could hear it hissing at him. Until now, Lucius couldn't fully grasp Karkaroff's desertion, but as he stood alone in his Azkaban cell, he found himself trapped between Voldemort and the one thing the Dark Lord feared over everything else.

He had no other choice. He'd failed Voldemort one too many times.

"That damn _Muggle_ …" Lucius suddenly snapped, his thoughts inevitably turning to Tim. He'd never been so humiliated in his life – defeated by a Muggle and two children. If Voldemort _was_ to rescue him, there was no way he'd be able to live his failure down, that much he knew. But would Voldemort even save him? Or would the Dark Lord rather see him die at the hands of his enemies?

He couldn't take any chances, and in the end, he had to look out for number one.

Lucius tensed his left arm while forcing the rest of his body to go limp, pushing himself outward as the chains to his left arm snapped out tightly. The blond Death Eater did his utmost to keep the noise he made to a minimum, not only to prevent the appearance of Aurors, but also in case the noise woke Gibbon from his seemingly perpetual coma.

Lucius's arm grew red and then purple as he tensed, pushing his body forward even more. The blue veins on his arm became almost as visible as the Dark Mark on his wrist before the chains reached their maximum reticence, Lucius's eyes rolling to the back of his head.

Even if it killed him, Lucius would escape, and he would have his revenge.

* * *

Gibbon slowly came to, blurred eyes struggling to focus as he found himself bound to the wall, his appendages restrained by chains. His body felt heavy, and it took great effort for him to move his head about. When he finally could though, and his eyes took to Lucius's cell, he let out a horrified gasp, and then a terrified scream.

"It may be a Muggle village, but apparently there's a blue-crested one-legged chicken-" Bartemius, who had been discussing various affairs with his Aurors, was brought to the attention of the loud scream, and the three of them quickly ran to the cells. The eyes of the Aurors and Bartemius widened as they saw that Lucius's cell was empty, save for a severed limb, a left arm with blood running down the wrist, obscuring the Dark Mark.

"What the Hell…?" an Auror mumbled.

Bartemius's right eye twitched. "How is it so easy for people to escape from Azkaban?!" he shouted, before sighing. "Alright, we'll execute Gibbon, as well as every other Death Eater on the lower floors."

"S-sir…?"

"You heard me." Bartemius turned to him. "I'm sure You-Know-Who will try to rescue them at some point. And if one of them was able to escape, who's to say the others won't? It's best if we kill them now, before they're able to join up with You-Know-Who again. Go, kill him." Bartemius ordered.

Gibbon looked on in fear, but could do nothing from the confines of his cell.

"S-sir," the Auror spoke again, "I don't think-"

"I know you don't think, Dawlish." Bartemius cut him off, "Because if you did, you'd understand that, if given the chance, the Death Eaters would kill you and everyone you care about without a second thought. Why should we show them compassion when they won't give us the same?" Bartemius asked. Dawlish stayed silent before Bartemius sighed, drawing his wand. "These are dark times, Dawlish, and we can't be shown to give mercy to our enemies…"

And the last thing that Gibbon saw was a flash of green light.

* * *

"Dobby, Dobby!" Dumbledore shouted, gently shaking the poor house-elf's shoulder. He'd found him unconscious just outside the Hufflepuff Common Room. Dobby's eyes flickered open, and he looked up at Dumbledore before jumping to his feet.

"Ack! Dumbledore!" Dobby yelped. "Oh, no! What has Dobby been doing?"

"I was hoping you could tell me." Dumbledore said calmly, relieved to find Dobby talking in third person. "You came in and offered me a drink before."

"Dobby did? Dobby doesn't remember that, sir. What if Dobby did something terrible?!" Dobby cringed, rushing over to the wall and beginning to bang his head over and over. Dumbledore, nonverbally and without a wand, performed the Levitation Charm, bringing Dobby back from the wall and over to him.

"You don't need to hurt yourself anymore, Dobby." Dumbledore reminded him. "I think you might have been cursed though. Do you remember finding anything or meeting anyone suspicious?"

"Um…" Dobby mumbled, his brain visibly ticking over as he tried to think back. "Ah, yes! Dobby thought he saw Draco before."

"Draco?"

Dobby nodded. "Yes, Dobby remembers now! Dobby was having a break, and so Dobby decided to go and try clean up the storeroom. Dobby knows it's very messy up there. Dobby went in and…"

"And…?" Dumbledore pressed.

"Draco was there, sir. He was whispering something. Dobby thought it might have been a curse, so Dobby stayed to make sure, but Dobby accidentally stepped on a fanged Frisbee, and Draco must have heard. Dobby doesn't remember what happened after that…"

"Draco…" Dumbledore whispered, turning to look in the direction of the storeroom. "Dobby, I want you to go and find Tim." Dumbledore instructed, before he began walking away, a frighteningly serious aura about him.

"Wh-where are you going?" Dobby stammered.

Dumbledore turned back. "To find out what Draco's up to…"


	33. Draco's Last Stand

The students of Hogwarts walked briskly down the halls, rushing to get to their next classes, completely unaware of what was happening many floors above them. In the storeroom, Draco Malfoy could hear the rush of footsteps and laughed sinisterly to himself as he continued to charm the Vanishing Cabinet. Draco got a little bit of a fright when the cabinet suddenly shook from side to side, but recomposed himself once the cabinet settled.

Draco's sinister smile returning to his face, he quickly left the storeroom, leaving the door unlocked behind him.

* * *

Thick clouds of black rolled in across the sky, signaling the death that was to come. Filch stood watch at the exterior walkway, overlooking the horizon, the Squib caretaker not realizing that the threat to Hogwarts was inside the castle walls, and had been for some time.

Dumbledore ascended the staircase of the Astronomy Tower, reaching the top floor and looking out at the blackened sky. "You can come out now, Draco." Dumbledore said simply, Draco making slow, soft steps out of the shadows, pointing his wand almost feebly at the wrinkly wizard. "How long have you been waiting here for me?"

"Long enough." Draco scowled.

"Right, well I was trying to find you. If you had have let me know you were here, I would have come straight up."

"I wanted to be sure I could get you alone, without that stupid _Muggle_." The venom in Draco's voice was as clear as the sky was clouded. "It's disgusting how much you let him get away with. He abuses students on an almost daily basis-"

"Are you suggesting that you don't do the same?" Dumbledore interrupted. "I've heard you several times call Miss Granger a Mudblood. Besides, Tim has a good heart."

"A good heart?!" Draco scoffed. "He's a brute. And once I'm finished with you, I'm getting rid of him."

"Is that so…?" Dumbledore asked softly. "You're going to kill me and then Tim? I don't think so. You're not a murderer, Draco." Dumbledore stated matter-of-factly.

"Says you! I've done things that would shock you."

"Like placing Dobby under the Imperius Curse to give me a cup of poisoned mead?" Dumbledore asked.

"He was _my_ family's house-elf." Draco said coldly. "Why couldn't _I_ use _it_ one more time to get rid of you?"

"If you wanted to kill me, Draco, why do it in such a roundabout way?"

"Why do you think I'm here now, huh?" Draco grunted, pointing his wand as hard as he could, despite not performing any spell.

"Very well. If you wish to kill me, then I guess there's no point in trying to fight." Dumbledore sighed, setting his wand down onto the ground. "Go on, Draco. But remember, if you're to use the Killing Curse, you have to _mean_ it. Simply saying it won't be enough to kill me." Dumbledore told him. Draco's eyes twitched, his nostrils flaring. His grip on his wand tightened, but just as he raised it, the sound of footsteps brought both his and Dumbledore's attention to the staircase as Death Eaters Bellatrix Lestrange and Fenrir Greyback walked into view.

"Well _done_ , Draco!" Bellatrix praised. "Dumbledore's at your mercy!"

"Good afternoon, Bellatrix." Dumbledore greeted, his tone showing he was less than enthused by her presence.

"Have you forgotten me, Dumbledore?" Greyback asked.

"I would have liked to," Dumbledore answered honestly. "Is it just the three of you, or are more of you coming?"

"You don't know…?" Bellatrix asked, sounding surprised, "The new Minister for Magic's been rounding up Death Eaters left and right. We were actually on our way to go and take care of him, but we thought we'd make a quick stop here first."

Greyback licked his lips. "There's no blood tastier than a child's."

"Anyway," Bellatrix said, "That's enough idle chit-chat. Do it, Draco!"

Draco kept his wand poised at Dumbledore, saying nothing.

"He doesn't have the guts to do it." Greyback taunted. "Let me do it. I could snatch his neck, rip his throat out-"

" _No_!" Bellatrix snapped. "The Dark Lord was clear! We're only meant to accompany him!" Bellatrix then turned to Draco. "Come on, Draco, this is your moment…" She cooed, "Dumbledore is right where you want him…"

"Even if he _did_ cast the Killing Curse, it wouldn't work. The boy's too soft." Greyback smirked.

" _Shut_ _up_!" Draco suddenly snapped at the werewolf, turning back to Dumbledore. Draco breathed in and out several times, his hand purple from the intense grip he had on his wand. And then, as time itself seemed to slow, Draco yelled with all his might " _Avada_ _Kedavra_!" and Dumbledore was struck by green light, toppling off the edge of the Astronomy Tower.

Bellatrix smiled keenly, rushing over to the edge of the tower before casting the Dark Mark into the sky with glee, letting out a victorious yell.

Greyback chuckled to himself, walking over to Draco. "I underestimated you, kid." He said, which was probably the closest thing to a compliment he'd ever give. "Now, come on. We'd better go before the Aurors get here."

"You go. There's still one more thing I have to take care of…" Draco said ominously.

* * *

Even though the Dark Mark was visibly present in the sky above Hogwarts, many of the students, especially the first-years and second-years, failed to understand its significance, and were quite surprised when Draco and his two Death Eater accomplices came charging through the halls. Greyback snarled, licking his lips as he eyed each and every student like a piece of raw meat. Even though Greyback knew he had to escape before the Aurors inevitably showed up, he couldn't suppress his lust for blood, and quickly lunged at Troi Kráchtis, a first-year Gryffindor, tearing him to shreds.

Bellatrix sighed, rolling her eyes at Greyback's inability to keep himself under control. All of the children screamed and began running in various directions, bar only a few. "You're such a typical werewolf…" Bellatrix mused, non-verbally casting the Inflating Charm on a stunned second-year. "Whatever. Just be sure you clean up after yourself." Bellatrix then used her wand as though it were a pin, popping the air-filled balloon-like second-year with a quick prick. Bellatrix threw her head back in laughter, enjoying way too much the way she killed that second-year.

Draco continued to wear his sullen look as though it were etched into his face, the blond Death Eater-in-training moving on ahead without Bellatrix or Greyback. He knew that eventually, they'd make their way to the other side of the school and back through the Vanishing Cabinet they came through, but Draco still had to find Tim.

Draco took a turn into one of the Portrait Rooms, coming face-to-face with the portrait of a moustache-wearing British knight.

"Ah, Mister Malfoy, it's great to see you again." The knight in the portrait smiled warmly at him. It was clear he knew nothing of what was going on outside. "Though I'm afraid if you wish to pass through, you'll have to give me the password-"

Draco's eyes burned as he reached forward, grabbing the frame of the portrait and throwing it to the ground, before climbing up and into the passage. Draco emerged on the Grand Staircase to find almost the entire school having been thrown into a panic. Draco weaved his way through the crowd, Professor Flitwick trying in vain to keep the students calm. Draco made his way down the Grand Staircase until he reached the first floor, moving off into the hallway and then across the stone bridge.

Draco passed through a set of double doors and ran down a long stretch of hallway, taking a sharp right as he arrived at the First floor girls' lavatory, the entrance to Tim's room.

"Alright, where are you, ya filthy Muggle?!" Draco shouted, throwing jets of red light around the room, hitting some of the bathroom stall doors and knocking them open. Draco breathed heavily, the sounds of running water and unpleasant crunching further unnerving the blond.

"What?!" Tim angrily called out from behind a bathroom stall door. "I'm taking a dump. Hold on."

Draco growled, seething with rage as he blasted the stall door open with the Reductor Curse, Tim hastily covering his privates.

"What the Hell, man?! At least let me wipe!" Tim shouted.

Draco's eyes narrowed, throwing a Stunning Spell at Tim, which the awesome teacher was able to easily dodge even from his seated position. "Get up! Get up, _get_ _up_!" Draco snapped.

"What's up _your_ butt? First you tell me to stay away from you, and now you're pointing a wand at me while I'm trying to drop a-"

" _Avada_ _Kedavra_!" Draco yelled, Tim narrowly dodging the jet of green light as it collided with the wall.

"Hey!" Tim said sternly, pointing his finger at Draco. " _None_ of _that_. Shame on you."

Draco threw another Killing Curse at Tim, and once again, Tim ducked and weaved out of the way. "Damn it!" Draco shouted, following through with another. Draco panted, quickly licking his lips. "I guess you really _are_ stronger than Dumbledore."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Tim asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What do you _think_ it means, Muggle?" Draco smiled sinisterly. Tim stayed silent, so Draco continued. "You dodged two of my Killing Curses easily. Dumbledore fell to the first one I threw."

Tim's face dropped, his heart sinking. "No… Y-you didn't…"

"I did…" Draco grinned evilly. "I killed Dumbledore… And now I'm gonna kill you…"

Tim felt his body become very cold, and Draco hadn't even done anything yet. Just the mere mention that Dumbledore had died and that Draco had killed him brought pain back from a place he'd only experienced once before, and opened up a metaphysical sore that had only just begun to heal. He tried sensing Dumbledore's presence in the hope that Draco was lying, but he couldn't feel anything.

Draco watched as his most hated teacher looked as though he was only moments away from a mental breakdown, loving the sight of manly tears filling his eyes. "Not so tough without Dumbledore, are ya?" Draco smiled, raising his wand. "I've waited six years to see that look from you, and I'm going to remember it every day for the rest of my life. Goodbye, Muggle… _Avada_ _Ked_ -"

A loud snap ended Draco's uttering of the Killing Curse as Tim grabbed his arm and pulled it down, straightening his arm out before bending it backwards, breaking Draco's arm and making him drop his wand. Blood ran from the huge open hole Tim had created as the orange-haired teacher let go of his arm, letting it drop to Draco's side, before landing a powerful punch to Draco's chest, the blond flying through the air and colliding with the column at the room's entrance.

Before Draco had even a second to recover, Tim grabbed him by his legs and hoisted him up into the air before throwing him down again. The constant sound of running water and whirling of other various equipment prevented anyone from hearing what was going on in the bathroom, not that anyone cared with all the chaos going on outside.

As Draco hit the ground, his head split open, blood starting to pour from his head into the iron drainage grates surrounding the column. Tim stood over him, watching as blood continued to run from the gashes on Draco's head and arm, his body completely motionless, his eyes fixed and lifeless. Neither Tim nor Draco moved for several minutes, until finally Tim walked over to Draco's body, pressing the heel of his steel-toe boot against his face before bringing it down on him, crushing his skull.

Tim then turned around, picking up Draco's wand from the ground and snapping it in half, throwing the pieces onto Draco's mangled body.

* * *

By the time Tim had left the lavatory, Bellatrix and Greyback had escaped back through the Vanishing Cabinet, and Dumbledore's body had been discovered by Madam Pomfrey. The Vanishing Cabinet was consequently destroyed beyond repair, and later that night, a funeral for Dumbledore was held with the entire school in attendance, and many graduating students, such as Lee Jordan, returning to pay respects. The only absentees were Harry and Hermione, and, for obvious reasons, Draco.

Dumbledore's body had been placed in an open casket, Tim saying a few words to the congregation, and of course, his awesome speech brought everyone to tears. The group raised their wands to the sky, jets of white light shooting off into the clouds above, extinguishing the Dark Mark and brightening the sky once more. But even though the Dark Mark had disappeared, and the clouds had faded away, one undeniable truth remained:

War had finally begun.


	34. The All Tomato

"My lord, we have returned with great news." Bellatrix announced, walking very giddily into the halls of Malfoy Manor, Greyback following slowly behind. "Draco succeeded. Dumbledore is dead."

"Good…" Voldemort smiled.

"And that's not all. We also got this." Bellatrix took a wand out from her dress and put it on the table in front of Voldemort. The Dark Lord recognized it immediately. It was Dumbledore's wand. The Elder Wand. An almost hungry expression formed on his face as he reached for it, which quickly faded however as he picked it up, holding it gently in his hands.

"This is useless to me." Voldemort suddenly said. "I can feel it. This wand wasn't disarmed with Magic. It was still Dumbledore's wand at the time of his death, and it's still his." Voldemort tossed the Elder Wand aside, no longer caring for it. "I'm better off using someone else's wand. Fetch Narcissa for me, will you?"

Bellatrix had become very subdued, not liking seeing Voldemort displeased. "Y-yes, my lord…" She mumbled, nodding quickly as she rushed off down the hall.

"…What of Bartemius?" Voldemort asked after a long uncomfortable silence.

"He escaped." Greyback stepped forward, his mouth covered in the dry blood of children.

Voldemort grumbled. "I would have preferred he was killed, but… as long as he's out of the way… _Pius_!" A tall, silver-bearded pure-blood walked into the room, Wormtail walking behind him, as though holding him at wandpoint. Voldemort's lips curled into a smile. "I require your services…"

* * *

"This sucks…" Harry grumbled, lying back in his sleeping bag, head resting against a shoddy pillow. The night air was cold, and the chirping of crickets from outside the tent seemed as though it was going to prevent either Harry or Hermione from falling asleep any time soon.

"Maybe we're just not strong enough to destroy them." Hermione verbalized, lying next to Harry in her own sleeping bag. "After all, Voldemort was the one that created them. Someone else might need to destroy them."

Harry turned to Hermione. "You mean Dumbledore?"

"He's the only one that Voldemort fears… Well, him _and_ Professor Ihansha. Maybe one of them could destroy the Horcruxes?"

"I hope so…" Harry muttered, "So, should we head back to Hogwarts tomorrow then?"

"Yeah. The sooner we get these Horcruxes destroyed, the better." Hermione agreed. Neither Harry nor Hermione said anything more, and after a few minutes of silence, Harry rolled over in his sleeping bag to face Hermione.

"Hermione…?" he asked softly.

Hermione turned to face Harry. "Yeah…?"

"I…" Harry paused, exhaling as he struggled to find the words he wanted to say. "Thank you for coming on this trip with me… I, I mean, I know it's not… I know this hasn't really been a _trip_ trip, but… I wouldn't have been able to find these Horcruxes on my own, so… thank you."

"That's okay-"

"A-and I know that you've… you've missed out on a lot of schoolwork because of it, and so… I… I do appreciate it…"

Hermione smiled. "I know you do…"

* * *

Tim stood in Dumbledore's office, his perfect face having grown a perfect Beard of Sorrow since the day that Dumbledore was murdered. If only he had've been there, he could have stopped him from getting killed, he thought. But he did nothing. He didn't even know until it was too late.

Tim sighed, moving closer to Dumbledore's desk, the ring of Marvolo Gaunt still lying out on the desk. Instinctively moving to touch it, as soon as his finger grazed the ring, a bloodcurdling scream filled his ears and the ring suddenly seemed to 'stand' up, spinning around very quickly. Tim blinked rapidly, his neck twitching as he grabbed the ring, inspecting it closer as he struggled to maintain composure.

"Tim…"

Tim quickly stashed the ring into the left pocket of his stonewashed jeans, turning to see Professor McGonagall standing in the doorway. "Minerva…"

"We need you to come to the Great Hall. Schoolwide announcement." She said softly.

"I'll be there in a moment."

McGonagall nodded quickly, turning and leaving. When Tim was alone, he took out the ring, giving it another look before putting it back into his pocket.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall, the now-Headmistress of Hogwarts, stood looking out at a sea of nervous, frightened and tear-stricken faces. With Dumbledore gone, it was clear to even the first-years that Hogwarts was no longer the safe haven it used to be, and especially with news getting out that Death Eaters were able to invade and had killed two students, many younger students had been forcibly removed from the school by their parents, fearing for their safety.

Fortunately, with war seemingly on the horizon, many former Hogwarts students who'd graduated in the previous years had returned, willing to lend a hand to fight off the impending Death Eaters.

"I don't think any of us can deny that these are dark times." McGonagall addressed. "I know that many of you are probably feeling… uncertain, and I completely understand why. I think we all can. But to you younger students, you do not need to worry. I have arranged for transportation from here to out of the country. Your parents will be contacted and will be assisted by a group known as the Order of the Phoenix. Rest assured that you will be in safe hands, and there is nothing to be afraid of."

Though McGonagall tried to be optimistic through her speech, it was lost on the majority of the students. It was only when Neville Longbottom came rushing into the Great Hall that the downtrodden atmosphere began to disappear. "Profe-" Neville cleared his throat, "Headmistress!"

"Mister Longbottom, where have you been?" she asked.

Neville huffed. "Guess who's back…" Neville moved to the side as Harry and Hermione came into view, the students collectively gasping in surprise.

"Professor!" Harry called as he approached McGonagall. "Where's Dumbledore? We need to see him right away!"

McGonagall's face hardened, the wrinkles in her skin becoming all the more visible. "Potter… Dumbledore is dead…"

A dry gasp escaped from Harry's mouth. "Wh-what…?"

"He was killed-" McGonagall stopped, suddenly finding herself a little choked up. She cleared her throat before continuing. "He was killed a few days ago. Death Eaters attacked the school."

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "No… Dumbledore can't be dead… He just can't…"

"I'm afraid he is, Mister Potter."

"But we…" Harry breathed, "Horcruxes… all the Horcruxes…" Harry could barely form a sentence at the discovery of his Headmaster's demise. Not only that, Harry suddenly experienced a scorching pain from his scar, the young man dropping to his knees and cringing. Tim felt the same pain from his scar, but simply ran his fingers along his chest, able to cope with the pain much better than Harry.

Suddenly, the voice of Voldemort rang in the ears of every student and teacher in the Great Hall, some clutching their ears, some first-year girls screaming their heads off needlessly.

" _Students_ … _teachers_ …" Voldemort's voice was cold, dripping with evil, but also eerily calm at the same time. " _I know that many of you will want to fight_. _Some of you may even think it is wise to fight_ , _but to fight against me would be a fatal mistake_. _I know that_ , _above all_ , _you fear Death_ , _and value your lives_ … _I do not wish to take your lives from you_ … _I only wish for one thing_ : _Harry Potter_ …" At Voldemort's mention of his name, Harry froze, sweat starting to appear on his face as each and every student looked at him. Voldemort continued, proceeding to give an ultimatum to those at Hogwarts. " _Give me Harry Potter_. _Do this and none shall be harmed_. _Give me Harry Potter_ , _and I shall leave Hogwarts untouched_. _Give me Harry Potter and you shall be rewarded_. _You have until tomorrow night_ , _at which point_ , _if you have not complied_ , _each and every one of you_ … _shall die_ …"

As quickly as Voldemort's voice came, it faded, though its message hung in the minds of each and every student. Of course, they were all lost on what they should do, and all turned to Tim for guidance. It was Tim, after all, who truly knew what was the right thing to do in this situation.

"What should we do, Professor?" Hermione asked.

Tim looked around, noticing that the eyes of all the students and teachers were on him. Tim squinted, taking out his earphones, My Chemical Romance's 'Welcome to the Black Parade' blaring through the tiny earbuds. "I'm sorry, what?"

The students put their hands to their hips, shaking their heads in affectionate annoyance. "Ti~im!"

The studio audience laughed.

"Someone get him!" Pansy shouted, pointing a finger at Harry. Tim glided to her from across the room, backhanding her to the ground.

"No." Tim said bluntly.

"He's right." Seamus piped up, the rest of the students applauding Tim, a tear of gratitude coming to Harry's eye.

Hermione walked over to Tim. "Professor, you've had experience with wars. What do we do?"

Tim shrugged. "Don't worry. This ain't gonna be a war. More like child's play. You guys can handle it. Just secure the castle." Tim said, turning away from the teachers and students in the Great Hall, moving to leave through the doors at the other end of the room.

"Wh-where are you going?" Harry asked, feeling as though Tim's presence was integral to his own safety.

"I'm gonna do my own last minute prep. Just hold down the fort."

* * *

As Tim had suggested, McGonagall and the rest of the Hogwarts staff began to fortify the castle, casting various enchantments and calling upon various magical creatures to stand guard and fight with them. Members of the Order of the Phoenix had arrived to escort all but the sixth and seventh-years from the school. Zacharias Smith had pleaded, begged to go with them, but Hermione forbade it, telling him as a former member of Dumbledore's Army he had to stay and fight for his school.

Although many of the students, current and former, were putting on brave faces, they couldn't hide fear from themselves. Knowing what was to come the following day, it was perhaps scarier than thinking they could be attacked at any moment. They knew what was coming, they knew how much time they had left, and that there was no turning back.

Fred and George Weasley couldn't sleep, and so they, along with Lee Jordan, were assisting the Hogwarts staff in protecting the castle by setting traps for Death Eaters. Things like Decoy Detonators and Instant Darkness Powder caches – items that they were hoping to sell in a joke shop of some kind, were set up just before the covered bridge, the assumed direction that the Death Eaters would be attacking from.

"You know," Fred began, turning to his partners in crime, "It seems like only yesterday, you and I were giving out the passwords of portraits in exchange for Bertie Bott's Beans, and you were commentating Quidditch games…" Fred muttered.

George nodded. "And now we're about to fight for the future of Wizard and Muggle-kind."

Fred suddenly beamed at him. "It's gonna be a pretty amazing story to tell."

"Pop, pop!" Lee agreed, and even though George was scared, he couldn't help but laugh.

* * *

As the sun rose, a warm glow spread out across the land, mixing with the cold morning air. Argus Filch stared at one of the many 'thin' bookcases for perhaps the last time, his intricate knowledge of the school's many secret passages especially useful against any Death Eaters who happened to somehow break through the multitude of protective enchantments cast around the castle.

Members of the Order of the Phoenix were transporting the last of the students away from the castle, with the rest of the staff and students using what little time they had to secure the castle. Barriers were put up, traps were set, and various items were transfigured into creatures to fight to defend Hogwarts.

From a Cliffside, far off into the distance, Voldemort watched it all, narrowing his eyes and shaking his head in disgust. Voldemort scowled. "So… it seems they don't value their lives…" Voldemort then turned back to his amassed army, consisting of his Death Eaters, Fenrir Greyback and his werewolf army, giants of ice and fire, Dementors, and several Ministry employees, such as Pius Thicknesse, who were under the Imperius Curse. The numbers for Voldemort's army climbed into the thousands, completely eclipsing that of Hogwarts, who had only students both present and former, teachers, and a small number of centaurs, along with some bewitched stone knights and some books that had been expertly transfigured by McGonagall into people willing to fight alongside them. "It's time," Voldemort announced, "bring Harry Potter to me, alive… Kill the rest…"


	35. Teh Final Blartle

The urgency of the day seemed to force time itself to move faster, as Neville stood on the covered bridge, looking out at the stone circle, a thick, knee-high fog shifting across the land as far as he could see. The young wizard was protected only by the teachers' enchantments surrounding the castle. Neville gripped his wand tight; sweat pouring from his body as shallow breaths desperately escaped him.

Thunder cracked and roared, and from the white mist, a thousand silhouettes could be seen approaching the school. Neville stood his ground, his expression becoming all the more focused and determined. Suddenly, a powerful force ripped through the sky, shattering Hogwarts's protective shields like glass, remnants of which rained down from the sky like golden snow. Neville's eyes widened as the horde of now-visible Death Eaters – fronted by Scabior Ulov – charged at him, flinging Stunning Spells and Killing Curses toward him.

Neville turned and ran, heading back across the covered bridge as he threw his own Stunning Spells and Knockback Jinxes across the walkway. The Death Eaters failed to realize however that Neville wasn't trying to throw spells at them. Instead, Neville had succeeded in igniting several Decoy Detonators and Instant Darkness Powder caches, discombobulating them. Then, with one final gesture of his wand, Neville performed the Fire-Making Spell and set the covered bridge alight. While the old bridge was sturdy enough to support the large mass of Death Eaters, it fell quickly to the fire as it, along with all the Death Eaters on the bridge, became consumed by bright orange flames.

* * *

Tim vigorously rubbed the soap against his flawless, perfectly chiseled body, in a desperate attempt to wash away the stench of weakness that had clearly taken hold of Tim from the years he'd spent surrounded by children and lesser beings. "Gotta get clean… gotta get clean…" Tim repeated. "So much weakness…"

Tim's mantra was brought to an end as Hermione rushed in, slipping in some soap and sliding across the floor, losing her balance as she fell into Tim's godly arms. Hermione blushed. "P-Professor…!"

"Hey…" Tim smiled. "Have you come to wash off the filth of weakness as well?"

"N-no." Hermione gasped, fighting off the urge to kiss him. "The fight's starting. I had to come and tell you. A-and… the Horcruxes… we've got some of them. I don't know if Dumbledore told you about them, but-"

"Don't worry. Dumbledead told me all about it." Tim said, a lone tear coming to his eye in remembrance of his fallen friend. "You need to destroy all the Horcruxes, don't you?" Tim let Hermione go, dropping the soap as he walked over and fetched Marvolo Gaunt's ring, giving it to her. "Don't put this on, or you'll get Wizard AIDS, or worse – expelled." Tim warned. Hermione nodded, taking the ring from Tim. "You stay safe, darlin'. I'll be out in a sec. I just need to finish here."

Hermione nodded once more, gathering up all of the Horcruxes as she left Tim, hopefully, she thought, for not the last time. "I love you…" Hermione whispered, though her words were unheard as Tim had started singing 'What's Up' by 4 Non Blondes.

"ㇸ6And I say, hey yeah yeah, hey yeah yeah! I said hey, what's going on?!ㇸ6"

* * *

From the other side of Hogwarts, Fenrir Greyback took a whiff of the smoke-filled air and howled with great vigor as he and his werewolf army charged across the embattlements from the Viaduct entrance. The bloodcurdling howl carried to the Entrance courtyard, further terrifying the already scared seventh-years.

"This is insane! We're all going to die!" Zacharias said quickly, sweat dripping from his body like he'd just been rained on. "We have to get out of here!"

"Calm down, Zacharias. We only have a chance if we stick together." McGonagall's voice cut through the chaos, attempting to calm the students, if only a little bit. It seemed to work on Lee Jordan and the rest of the students, but Zacharias didn't look at all ready to fight. In the distance, the sounds of the charging army could be heard. "We'll all be fine…" McGonagall spoke, a little quieter this time, as if only to convince herself.

"Look! Up there!" one of the students yelled, McGonagall turning to look up at the Astronomy Tower.

" _Students_!" Tim yelled, holding his hands to the blackened sky. " _Lend me your energy_!"

"Hey, it's Tim!" Lee cheered.

"What's he saying?"

"I don't know, but it looks like we're saved."

After several moments of standing atop the Astronomy Tower, Tim brought his hands back down with disappointment. "What? No energy?" he sighed. "Alright then," Tim jumped off the Astronomy Tower, gliding through the sky like a hyperbolic kite of dynamism and landing with a powerful thud in the courtyard. McGonagall rushed over to her ex-lover, instantly forgiving and forgetting all of the pain that Tim had caused her, instead relieved that Tim was there to save them. "Hey McDonald, what's good?" Tim greeted her coolly.

"Quickly, Tim! We need you! They've almost-" McGonagall was interrupted by Tim pressing a finger against her wet supple lips.

"Quiet down, baby. I'm here to make all the bad people go away. So you just take a rest and let me show you how it's done." Tim smiled, his deep baritone voice soothing the older woman's very soul. Then without hesitation, Tim turned towards the charging hordes of werewolves, who were now crossing the bridge coming up to the Entrance courtyard.

As soon as the werewolves caught sight of the lone man charging at them, they immediately felt a sense of dread as the man's amazing bloodlust seemed to overpower them. But they continued to charge nevertheless. After all, they thought, how hard could it be for an army of werewolves to defeat one Muggle?

It turned out for them, however, that if that one Muggle was Professor Tim Ihansha, then they had no chance at all.

Tim ran forward at full speed, slamming his body against the first few werewolves, the sound of breaking bones filling their ears. Tim then began to snap, rip, and tear apart any of the werewolves he could get his powerful vice-like hands on. Before long though, the number of werewolves surrounding Tim became too overwhelming, their claws digging into the Muggle's skin. Gold blood began to run from the Muggle's body, and Tim pulled back.

"So you're good enough to draw my blood?" Tim laughed. "Well let me reward you by showing you just how strong _I_ _am_!" Tim yelled as he threw a few werewolves off of his body, sending them crashing into their kinsmen. Tim then reached out and grabbed one of his foes by the neck, lifting the now terrified werewolf a foot off the ground and then slamming its head back down to the stone floor, cracking the back of its skull open. Tim then stood up and began furiously punching and kicking at any of the creatures that got too close, eventually beginning to drive them back. The feeling of bones crunching and muscle tearing under his punches began to remind Tim of how much he loved the thrill of battle, and how much he had missed it in the past few years.

Tim was pulled from his reminiscing as he saw a claw swiping at his head, which he ducked under at the last minute as he sent two rib-crushing punches to the beast's ribs. As the werewolf began to crumple to the ground, Tim reached out and grabbed it by the head, which he then twisted right around, the popping and cracking sound of its grating spine sent chills through the werewolf onlookers, who had now started backing away from the Professor whose strength rivaled that of a legendary lethal landshark. The horrible grating was replaced with a moist tearing sound as Tim tore the head of the werewolf from its lifeless body.

"Who's next?!" Tim yelled as he waved around the bloody head, annoyed at the fact that the werewolves had eased up on their attack. "Come on guys! Let's have some fun!" Tim yelled as he threw the head directly at the other werewolves in a bid to provoke them.

Seeing their Professor have such a dominating upper hand over their foes, Lee Jordan and the rest of the students had a renewed sense of confidence, and began rushing from the confines of the courtyard to the Viaduct, wands drawn, in order to lend their assistance to their teacher.

The students began to spam the Stunning Spell as though it was their best and only offensive option, and faced with this sight, the werewolves' instinct of self-preservation kicked in and they began to back away further. Tim continued to pummel one of the werewolves into a bloody pulp, and by the time he'd finished, the rest of them had retreated.

"We've done it!" some of the students were yelling. "We can win this!"

But Tim knew that the battle wouldn't be so easily won. He could already hear the next obstacle making its way toward them. Thunderous evenly spaced thuds echoed throughout the school as giants emerged from the shadows. Some wielding clubs wearing minimal protective clothing, while others were cloaked in fire, or were pale white and extruding an icy mist from their bodies.

Tim's eyes narrowed as the students stepped back in fear. Zacharias turned to flee, but Tim grabbed him by the head. "Where do you think _you're_ going?"

"Screw this! I'm gettin' outta here!" Zacharias trembled.

"You're either with us or against us, Zacharias. What's it gonna be?" Tim asked, letting go of his head as he faced him back towards the giants.

Zacharias breathed shakily, once again turning to flee as Tim pushed him, causing the traitorous student to stumble quickly towards the giants, toppling over like the sad, pathetic person he was. Zacharias was instantly reduced to a bloody smear as his body was decimated by a giant's club.

McGonagall's resolve hardened, her wand alight with red energy beaming from the tip. Her bewitched stone knights quickly came from the courtyard to the front line, filling out the ranks with the Hogwarts students behind them.

The giant of skin and bone simply roared, bashing apart two of the knights as McGonagall stepped forward; throwing spells like the Expulso Curse and the Impediment Jinx at the giants, though neither spell seemed to have much effect. A ball of fire rushed past McGonagall and her knights, lighting Lee Jordan aflame. Tim's eyes widened; as quickly as the fire burst forth, it dissipated, leaving Lee lying face-up on the ground.

Tim rushed over to Lee, the poor boy shaking as his body was covered with burns. "Lee!" Tim called, lifting his right hand to cup the student's head.

"Pop!" Lee quivered. "P-pop!"

"Pop." Tim said back. "Pop what?" Tim asked. "Pop what?" But it was too late. Lee Jordan let out one last sigh and closed his eyes. " _What is he trying to say_?!" Tim screeched. " _Pop_ _what_ , _Lee_?!"

McGonagall threw another Impediment Jinx, this time at the frost giant, who staggered back, suddenly becoming very dazed. The frost giant stumbled, falling from the wall to its death.

The fire giant threw another fireball at the remaining students. Tim stood up, nostrils flaring as he threw himself at the fireball. Tim was caught in the blast, which would have killed anyone else outright, but not Tim. Tim pushed through the fireball, ascending into the sky as he launched himself at the fire giant's chest. As Tim made contact, it was as though the wind, or rather the fire, had been knocked out of the giant. The giant staggered back, and much like the first, toppled from the wall to its death.

Tim scraped through with minor burns, brushing himself down as more giants became visible through the darkness. McGonagall continued to throw spells from her wand as more giants made their way onto the bridge. The more human-like giants seemed to take the spells with ease, whereas the elemental giants were easy prey to the Blasting Curse and Impediment Jinx.

The stone knights however, were quickly getting ripped apart by the giants' wild swings of their clubs and as more of them kept coming from out of the shadows, even Tim started to get a little nervous. He couldn't fight at full power without endangering the students.

Tim turned to the students. "Fall back!" he shouted.

McGonagall nodded, "Quickly students, into the castle!" she called.

As soon as Tim turned to evacuate the rest of the students, he stopped. A cold sweat started to break out over his body. He sensed an enormous energy drawing nearer and nearer. Then finally he saw a red glow rising up from where the balustrade had fallen away, growing brighter and brighter as it rose into the sky, a daunting figure sitting within its own flames in an almost meditative state.

Tim's eyes widened as he finally recognized the figure.

"I thought I killed you…" Tim muttered with disbelief.

Levitating above the heads of the giants, who also seemed to be staring in awe, surrounded with the aura and serenity of a thousand Buddhas was the Goblin of Fire. Fiery orange eyes fell on Tim's as though they were looking at an old friend. The Goblin then slowly descended down onto the Viaduct towards Tim. As the Goblin's feet touched the ground, he extended his hand towards Tim, who took it out of mutual respect and friendship.

"It's good to see you again," Tim smiled, "but I think we'll need to put our rematch on hold for a bit. At least until these guys are taken care of…" Tim said, motioning towards the giants, who were now starting to regain composure and continue their advance on Hogwarts. "Well, what do you say, bro? Are you up for it?" Tim asked.

The Goblin of Fire simply nodded his head and turned to face the giant hordes.

Tim looked over his shoulder, seeing that all of the students had successfully retreated into the relative safety of the Entrance Hall. It looked like, Tim thought, he could finally go all-out, now that he didn't need to worry about the safety of any of the students.

"You take the ones on the left, and I can handle the ones on the right." Tim said to his battle buddy.

And at that, the Goblin of Fire and Tim charged forward directly into the midst of the giants. The giants were taken aback by the sudden assault. Tim pushed forward, relentlessly punching and ripping the flesh of the giants like some loco locomotive of lacerations, while the Goblin darted from giant to giant, scorching them and burning their skin. Even the fire giants withered away from the Goblin's blazing heat. The sound of crunching bones, boiling blood and screams of agony filled Tim's ears, and before long, the number of giants began to thin out as they too were pushed back from the Viaduct.

As the giants tried to retreat, Tim saw his last chance, so he sprinted forward at a speed so fast that even the Goblin was surprised. Tim then jumped straight at the chest of one of the giants, forcing his way into the beast's chest cavity. The other giants turned around to see why their friend was taking so long to run away. Then, only when he was sure all the other giants were looking, Tim shot out his muscular arms and legs with such force from within the giant's chest that the giant's body exploded into a mass of blood, chunks of flesh raining down from the sky. The other giants looked on in horror, some of them vomiting or fainting, as standing there where their friend had just been completely obliterated was a blood-covered Tim, like some kind of demonic fetus.

"Get out of here, you goons! Don't let me catch you 'round these parts again!" Tim shouted at the giants who were still on their feet. The giants proceeded to run as fast as they ever had, some being knocked over the edge of the Viaduct in the panic.

"Well that takes care of that." Tim said, turning to the Goblin of Fire as he wiped some of the blood out of his eyes. The Goblin of Fire looked at Tim with a slight sense of fear after having witnessed his act of brutality, but he understood that the man was only trying to protect the things that he loved. "I should be able to handle the rest from here." Tim told him, flashing the Goblin a pearly white smile, "But after this is over, how about you and I have a rematch?"

The Goblin of Fire simply smiled, nodding in acceptance as he looked off into the distance, before once again rising into the air, disappearing in a trail of flames that brought light to the darkened sky.

From Tim's vantage point, there were no more Death Eaters, werewolves or giants trying to make their way into the school, but Tim knew that didn't mean it was over. The howling of wind tried desperately to drown out all other sounds as Tim quickly made his way back into the Entrance courtyard, intent on lending a hand to whoever else needed it.

As he made his way in however, Fenrir Greyback jumped down from atop the cloister, knocking Tim to the ground, baring his fangs. "You thought you got rid of me, didn't you?" Greyback hissed. "Thought I'd leave in disgrace after you killed most of my brethren?!" Greyback kicked Tim in the face. "You're not worthy to be turned, you filthy Muggle-"

The doors to the Entrance Hall suddenly burst open, and Dobby the House Elf appeared, blowing Greyback into the wall by merely clicking his fingers. "You shall not harm Tim Ihansha! Tim Ihansha was Dumbledore's friend, and Tim Ihansha was nice to Dobby!"

Greyback grunted, recovering quickly. " _Now_!" he hissed.

" _Avada Kedavra_!"

A jet of green light burst forth from the shadows, striking Dobby as the poor house elf dropped to the floor. "Dobby!" Tim shouted, turning in the direction of where the spell came from. Wormtail stepped out of the shadows revealing himself to be the perpetrator of the attack.

" _You_!" Tim shouted. Tim rushed toward Wormtail, who tried throwing another Killing Curse. Tim dodged, knocking the wand from his human hand with a simple elbow to the wrist. Wormtail's own eyes widened as it looked like he'd lost control of his silver hand, as it fervently reached for Tim neck. Tim ducked underneath and struck Wormtail's chest with his palm, causing the rat-like man to momentarily fly through the air and collide with Greyback.

Before either Death Eater could recover, Tim was already upon them, and had grabbed both of them by their heads. Tim then brought his two hands together, literally smushing Greyback and Wormtail together into a single person.

A growl bubbled from within the conjoined mess that was Greyback and Wormtail's shared form, before the bodily mess simply toppled over.

Tim rushed back over to Dobby, taking the tiny, lifeless body into his arms and cradling it, sobbing softly. "It was too soon for you, little one. I should have been the one to die…" Tim blubbered, pressing his lips against Dobby's forehead. Sorrow welled up inside of him as he was instantly brought back to that fateful day when Voldemort had killed his sister Jemma. He was holding Dobby in very much the same way that he'd held his sister. Tim sniffed, tears running from his eyes. "I couldn't save her… and I couldn't save you…!" Tim cried out with more intensity "I'm sorry… I'm so, so sorry!"

All of a sudden, Tim's tears began to feel warmer, as if he was physically crying out his sorrow. He held Dobby closer still, letting his tears fall over his fallen friend as eventually, the tingling warm sensation subsided.

"Tim's squeezing Dobby too tight…!" croaked a small voice from within Tim's muscular arms.

Tim's eyes widened, loosening his grip and looking down into his arms to find Dobby's big round eyes staring back at him.

"Dobby! I thought I lost you!" Tim yelled out, his tears of sorrow becoming tears of joy. He lifted up the tiny elf and kissed him lovingly on the forehead.

A few students had come out from the Entrance hall to bear witness to the Muggle Miracle, including Lavender Brown, whom, had it not been for Tim, would have surely fallen prey to Fenrir Greyback instead.

"Wait, he was hit by the Killing Curse, how did he come back to life?" Lavender asked in utter disbelief.

Tim set Dobby down as he got to his feet, running a hand across his chest. "When I first arrived at Hogwarts, Dumbledeceased entrusted me to help him protect some red stone. He told me that Voldemort was not to get his hands on it, so I hid it in the only place where Voldemort couldn't get it: inside me."

McGonagall ran back out into the courtyard, having overheard Tim's story. "What do you mean?" she asked.

Tim turned to her. "I ate it."

McGonagall's eyes went wide, the wrinkles in her face pulling taut. "You _ate_ the Philosopher's Stone…?"

Tim nodded. "Yep. That's why my blood's gold. And I guess my tears can bring people back to life too." Tim shrugged. "Pretty neat, huh?"

Harry and Hermione ascended from the Boathouse steps, rushing into the Entrance courtyard. "Tim!" Hermione called, suddenly freezing at the sight of Tim's horrific appearance – his naked body covered liberally in the blood of werewolves and giants. "Oh my _God_ , are you okay?!"

"Yeah, it's mostly werewolf blood and giant guts. Great for getting out stains." Tim turned to the two students. "But where have you two been?"

"We had a run-in with Crabbe and Goyle." Harry told him.

Hermione nodded. "But we've found the last of the Horcruxes. Now we just need to destroy them, and then we can end this."

"We'll go to the Clock Tower and see if any other students need help." McGonagall said to them. "Potter, Granger, Tim… please be careful…"

Tim nodded as his ex-lover Apparated away with Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, leaving Tim, Hermione, Harry and Dobby standing alone in the courtyard, amongst the smell of ash and scattered debris. Tim dropped down to one knee, placing a hand on Dobby's shoulder. "You should get inside too, Dobby." Tim suggested.

Dobby's eyes shone with a vibrant yearning for Tim. "Dobby won't forget what Tim's done. Never."

Tim smiled as Dobby too Apparated away, clicking his fingers as he disappeared in a swirl of white light. Tim's smile faded as he turned away, closing his eyes and tensing his fists.

"Professor…" Hermione muttered as though she could feel his pain.

"You guys do what you can here. Help the others fight, or destroy the Horcruxes." Tim said as he started to leave.

"Professor, where are you going?" Hermione asked.

"Even if we did everything we could here, Voldemort's still alive. So until he's killed, the fight's not over." Tim opened his eyes, only to narrow them. "I can _feel_ it…! It's like he's waiting for me…"

"I can sense him too…" Harry said.

Tim turned to him. "Nuh-uh, Harry. You're not strong enough to sense Power Levels yet. You can't even fire a Ki blast."

"But I-" Harry attempted to explain, only to find himself backhanded by Tim.

"No." Tim said bluntly.

"He's right." Seamus piped up, the rest of the students applauding Tim.

"All of you should stay here. I'll finish Voldemort myself."

"Professor, _I'm_ the one that Voldemort wants. I should go with you."

Tim worked himself up into a completely unreasonable rage. "You think it's all about you, don't you?!" Tim snapped. "Well listen to this:" Tim took a large breath of air, before screaming at the top of his lungs. After several moments, Tim turned away, quietly walking in the direction of the Forbidden Forest.

* * *

Minarets of dust twisted up from the ground as spells were flung back and forth by Dumbledore's Army, led by McGonagall, facing what was left of Voldemort's Death Eaters. Tim's presence and prowess had withdrawn the majority of Voldemort's forces from Hogwarts, though there was still a small force of Death Eaters engaged in battle at the Clock Tower Courtyard.

McGonagall expertly disarmed Pius Thicknesse and then knocked him out with the Stunning Spell, Luna dodging Bellatrix's Cruciatus Curse. Lavender threw the Full Body-Bind Curse at Jugson, who dropped to the ground, completely immobilized. Bellatrix was then hit by several Stunning Spells thrown by Parvati and Ginny, though unlike Pius, Bellatrix did not fall unconscious, only staggering back, almost losing her footing over the scattered rubble and debris.

In spite of this however, Bellatrix cackled gleefully, her insanity becoming all the more evident. " _Expelliarmus_!" Bellatrix roared, successfully disarming McGonagall, before getting struck down by four successive Stunning Spells thrown by Luna, Lavender, Parvati and Ginny, jets of red light smacking her in the stomach as she collapsed.

Just as McGonagall went to retrieve her wand, she and the others froze, the already chilling midnight air becoming much colder. McGonagall shivered, looking out towards the remnants of the covered bridge, ghostly figures floating through the air towards them.

Dementors.

Just when all hope seemed lost however, and a large swarm of Dementors seemed poised to rip the souls out of Hogwarts' defenders, an intense shockwave of blue light ripped across the courtyard and Bartemius appeared, wand poised, alongside several Aurors.

" _Expecto Patronum_!"

Alongside Bartemius, the Aurors each conjured up a powerful Patronus, or spirit guardian, each looking as though they were covered in a glass-like down, resembling a lynx, wolf, and ox respectively. McGonagall grabbed her wand and then joined the Aurors by conjuring her own Patronus, a cat.

The Dementors were pushed back, roaring as they tried desperately to feed off of the Patronuses to no avail. The Patronuses kept charging forward, pushing the Dementors out of sight, the light from each Patronus fading away into the night.

* * *

The dark and gloomy forest was the perfect fit for a final showdown between good and evil, certainly better than the Entrance courtyard or Great Hall. Voldemort looked out through the fog, his three remaining Death Eaters, Narcissa Malfoy, Jandakot Aerportum, and Evocatus Bucinum standing with him. The other Death Eaters had either all met their fate at the hands of Neville on the covered bridge, were subdued by McGonagall, or fled after witnessing Tim's awesome might.

Suddenly, a completely gorgeous, impeccably handsome man broke through the trees, passing through the fog and into the clearing, a vape in Tim's hand. "Suh, dude. Soz about the smoke. Just took a fat rip from my custom-made vape. Ya understand, eh?" Tim quickly put the vape away.

"Tim Ihansha…" Voldemort spoke softly. "You've been a thorn in my side for too long…"

"You killed my sister-"

"She was a Muggle. She deserved it. You should've learned by now that Muggles are inferior to Wizards."

"You aren't a Wizard, Voldemort. You're not even human. A human would have some sort of compassion. You just kill for the sake of killing."

"Your heroic act is starting to wear thin. You're a killer, just like me. You remember the war, don't you? Hydra?"

"I kill to protect, you kill to destroy. That's where our similarities end."

"You know how else we're different?" Voldemort asked, his lips curling into a smile. "I'm alive and you're dead. _Avada_ _Kedavra_!" A jet of green light burst forth from Voldemort's wand, striking Tim in the chest, the Professor standing for a few moments, before falling flat on his face. Voldemort's eyes widened, lips trembling as he felt – for reasons unknown to him – a little weaker. "Is he…?" Voldemort whispered.

"Tim, _no_!" Harry yelled, revealing himself to Voldemort. Instinctively, Voldemort fired off a Killing Curse at Harry, who had no time to react, the young boy dropping to the ground, his body rolling to a stop near Tim's. Voldemort dropped to his knees, coughing up a severe amount of blood onto the floor, sweat pouring down his frame.

"My Lord, are you alright?!" Jandakot called, rushing to his side and helping him up.

"Y-yes, I'm fine, I'm…" Voldemort paused. It finally dawned on him that both Harry Potter and Tim Ihansha were dead. "I'm _great_ , I'm… _fantastic_ …! This… this has to be what it's like to be… happy, right…?" Voldemort turned, looking to Jandakot with almost yearning eyes. It was the first time that Voldemort had ever experienced anything resembling joy.

Neither Voldemort nor any of his Death Eaters noticed a faint red aura beginning to emanate from Tim's body.

It was several moments before, out of the corner of her eye, Narcissa noticed the change in Tim's condition, and quickly went over to check. When she'd only made it halfway to Tim, she gasped, seeing his hands curl into fists as the aura intensified.

Narcissa staggered back in fear. "M-my Lord…!" she trembled.

"What is it, Narcissa!?" Voldemort snapped back, the malice in his voice cutting through his newfound happy mood.

"It's the Muggle. Tim. He isn't dead…!" Narcissa said, fear making her voice tremble.

Voldemort pushed Jandakot out of the way so that he could have a clear view of his fallen enemies, and he too saw the red aura around the fallen Muggle radiate. He stared on in disbelief as Tim's muscular back began to flex, and even though he was face-down in the dirt, Voldemort felt an intense pang of fear pierce right through his being.

"I killed you! I _finally_ killed you! Why can't you just _stay_ _dead_?!" Voldemort screamed, stomping the ground like a child having a tantrum.

As if he were responding to Voldemort's cries, Tim slowly moved his arms to push himself up off the ground and onto his feet. As he rose, the red aura grew even more intense, until it was a bright pulsating light that hummed with energy.

The expression on his face was eerily calm and composed, though his eyes continued to show that gloriously reverent passion. Tim began walking towards Voldemort.

Voldemort let loose an unholy yell. " _Kill him_! _Kill him_!" he roared, firing another Killing Curse straight at Tim's chest, but Tim kept walking forward, unfazed by Voldemort's attack. Jandakot and Bucinum began firing Killing Curses at Tim too, but just like Voldemort's, they had absolutely no effect on Tim.

Tim kept walking forward, slowly and confidently, as green light splashed against his body. Tim suddenly let loose his own roar, a Power Shriek, dust kicking itself up from the ground, as Jandakot and Bucinum were knocked to the ground, wands flying from their hands. They got up, charging forward through the dust and fog as Tim brought one of his arms out to his side, literally punching, not chopping, Jandakot in half. Tim then pulled his right leg back, before sweeping it forward, his kick slashing right through Bucinum's stomach, splitting him in half too.

The two Death Eaters dropped to the ground, their warm blood running onto the cool, damp dirt. Voldemort snarled, firing off another Killing Curse, which Tim took. Narcissa staggered back as Voldemort yelled " _I will kill you_ , _Muggle_!", firing a Killing Curse straight through Narcissa's back.

Tim remained unfazed, dodging the flash of green by tilting his head to the side.

By now, Voldemort was backed up against a large tree, Tim drawing closer. Voldemort was utterly vexed by the situation; if it weren't for this single Muggle then he would have taken over the Wizarding World, but instead he was reduced to cowering in fear from the man. Voldemort pointed his wand with the intention of firing another Killing Curse, but before he could, Tim rushed forward and gripped his iron fist around the end of Voldemort's wand. As Voldemort cast the curse, Tim's vice-like grip on the wand's tip caused the spell to become nullified, its remnants ricocheting off behind him, shattering the wand into hundreds of pieces and slamming Voldemort hard against the trunk of the tree. Tim once again simply shrugged off the effects of the spell.

Before Voldemort could react, Tim lifted his right knee and brought his leg down hard, kicking Voldemort in his knee, causing the bone to shatter. Voldemort let out a cry of agony as he crumpled to the ground.

"Why…?" Voldemort choked out, "Why won't you die…? Y-you're j-just a Muggle…"

Tim looked down at Voldemort. His pathetic tone of voice almost drew pity from Tim. Voldemort was beaten. That much was obvious. And yet… he still hadn't learned. Tim's eyes seemed to burn into Voldemort's, his voice coming from deep within his very soul.

"You can't kill what I am. What I represent. You think power can be found with some wand, or with legions of wizards under your control? Real power comes from within. You've just been too blind to realize. You've hidden behind your magic and cast aside your soul. Magical or not, you've forgotten what it is, what it means to be human. You've let hate and fear be what drives you. You don't know what real strength is. Real strength is the will to keep fighting against people like you, and you'll never understand that. That's why if I let you go, and you ran away and trained for every day of your life, you still wouldn't compare to me."

"Please let me go…" Voldemort begged softly, "I'll change my evil ways! I-I see how strong Muggles are now!"

Tim's eyes narrowed. "Once a killer, always a killer…" Tim reached forward, his powerful hands reaching around Voldemort's cold, pale neck. "This is for Jemma…!" Tim tightened his grip, the sound of cartilage grinding against itself filling the forest. Voldemort let out a defiant groan as his crimson eyes bulged, desperately struggling against Tim to no avail. Silver blood began to run from Voldemort's eyes as they suddenly popped from their sockets, dangling down by their optic nerve.

Tim removed his hands from Voldemort's neck, looking up toward the sky, as the most radiant smile you've ever seen crossed his face. The Warrior Spirit inside his heart began to settle. It was the first time since his sister's death that Tim could truly rest.

Slow, gentle movements allowed Tim to rise to his feet, pulling Voldemort's corpse up by his clothing as he found a nearby branch, choosing to impale Voldemort's body with it, the Dark Lord totally and completely emasculated, hanging helplessly from the tree.

Tim walked over to Harry's body, turning him over so that Harry's head faced his, as he allowed thoughts of his sister to fill up his mind, and tears of passion and love to fill his eyes as they spilled onto Harry's body. Harry's spirit returned as his consciousness stirred.

"Wha…?" Harry's voice slurred, unfocused and hoarse. As memories of his death returned to him, he sat up quickly, expecting to fight Voldemort, only to find his body impaled onto a tree. The state of Voldemort's body was too much for Harry, who doubled over and started vomiting onto the ground. Tim looked down at him.

"Come on, Harry. It's over now. Everything's gonna be okay." Tim smiled, offering a hand for Harry to take. Harry's heartbeat began to settle as the young boy accepted his teacher's hand.

* * *

The night was long and filled with struggle, turmoil and loss, but as the sun rose, once again bathing the land in a warm glow, the staff and students of Hogwarts, along with its allies, stood watch, waiting with baited breath for Tim's return.

Emerging from the Forbidden Forest, Harry couldn't quite wrap his head around the fact that Voldemort had been killed. To Harry, it just seemed like Voldemort would always be there, a persistent threat. "I don't believe it…" Harry mumbled to himself.

"Well…" Tim began to surmise, "I showed him…"

"Professor…?" Harry had finally gotten up the courage to ask Tim what exactly transpired in the Forbidden Forest.

"Yes?" Tim asked, his voice much kinder than it had ever been.

"How did you survive?" Harry asked, the question hanging in the air for a long time. "I-I watched you die…"

"Hmm…" Tim turned away, putting a finger to his lips in thought. "I don't really know for sure, but I guess… I just wasn't ready to give up yet. I'd gotten so close, and Voldemort was right there. I couldn't give up. I couldn't let myself slip away. I had to kill him."

Harry's face darkened as he looked off into the distance. "After death, it's not all darkness, is it? I… I went somewhere… met someone…"

"Who?"

"Professor Dumbledore."

"And?"

Harry swallowed. "He told me something. Something about… the two of us…"

"Yeah?" Tim asked. Tim had never been this quiet, this interested in what Harry had to say. It seemed strange to him, as though Tim had become a completely different person.

"He said that… you and I… were Horcruxes… that when Voldemort killed your sister, you became one, and when Voldemort killed my mother, I became one. That's why we've both been able to sense Voldemort. We've had that connection with him even if we didn't know it."

"So… what you're saying is… a part of Voldemort's soul is inside both of us?"

Harry nodded, but he looked quite nervous. "Well… Professor Dumbledore said that when Voldemort used the Killing Curse on me, the Horcrux inside me was destroyed, but with you…" Harry trailed, Tim once again turning to look at his student. "Dumbledore told me that he gave you something in my first year, the Philosopher's Stone, which I'd read about, and… he said that you… ate it…"

Tim nodded. "That's right. He wanted me to keep it safe."

"Well, supposedly, the Philosopher's Stone could be used to create the Elixir of Life, and somehow, by eating it, your body was able to harness that power. When you died in the Forbidden Forest, the Horcrux in you wasn't destroyed, because the Stone had saved you, and you as a receptacle weren't destroyed beyond repair."

Tim looked up into the sky. "So I still have a part of Voldemort inside me…" he mused, before shrugging and looking back at Harry a few moments later, "That's fine."

"Really? Y-you don't mind having a part of your sister's killer inside you?"

"Harry, the only way for him _not_ to be a part of me is if I died, which – let's face it – probably isn't gonna happen." Tim smiled, daring to tempt fate. Tim knew however that fate was weak, and that he'd punch fate in the face with his leg.

Tim and Harry drew closer, walking along the Viaduct as they were spotted by Neville, who yelled " _Look_! _Tim's returned_!" with his long bottom shaking about. The rest of Hogwarts erupted into a cheer, knowing even without Tim announcing it, that he had succeeded in killing Voldemort.

Tim turned to Harry. "Smile to the crowd, Harry." Tears began to run down Harry's pale face as Tim chuckled. "Silly, Harry. I said smile, not cry."

"All my friends are dead…" Harry sobbed, his mind wandering to images of Ron, Cedric, Dumbledore, and the multitude of students whose lives had been lost in the Battle of Hogwarts.

Tim looked down at Harry, not wanting to see the boy's tears. Tim dropped to one knee, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Harry, look at me." Tim said softly. Harry sniffed, his diaphragm beginning to spasm. "I've been in lots of wars, and you probably think with how I act that I've gotten used to it all, but the truth is… I haven't. I've lost so many people that I loved. My parents, my sister, my best friend. It doesn't get any easier. But I know that none of them would want me to be sad. They'd want me to keep on living for them. That's the best way, I think. The best way to honor people that you've lost is to live a good life."

Harry suddenly broke, bursting into tears and wailing like an infant. Tim took Harry into his powerful, masculine, dried-blood-covered arms and held him to his chest. "It should've been me…" Harry whispered.

Tim wiped Harry's tears away. "No more crying, Harry. Live. Live because you have a life worth living."

Harry nodded as Tim set him down, the Professor making his way further towards the castle. It was in that moment that Harry finally understood what Cedric had said all those years ago, and Harry himself muttered in kind, "I love that man…"

* * *

It was a rather strange feast that night. Feelings of happiness and sadness clashed and mixed with the aromas of pumpkin juice and Spotted Dick. The students were happy that the fighting was over, but mournful because so many of their friends had lost their lives.

Hermione had succeeded in destroying the rest of Voldemort's Horcruxes, leaving Tim as the only surviving Horcrux.

Tim entered, having cleaned his magnificent body of the giants' blood and battle sweat, and it seemed as though all eyes in the room had fallen to Tim. McGonagall sat in Dumbledore's old seat, and Bartemius in hers.

"My eyes are up here." Tim motioned, noticing that all of the girls and some of the guys were staring at his vibrant crotch. Tim then took his place at the High Table in the Great Hall next to McGonagall.

McGonagall cleared her throat, rising to her feet. "Tonight, we honor the tremendous loss at the hands of Lord Voldemort and his army, and celebrate the fact that if it were not for the sacrifices that so many of our students made, then you and I would not be sitting here now. But I think all of us owe a great deal to Tim, because if it were not for him, our chances of winning would have been quite slim. So, I hope you'll join me in a toast," McGonagall raised her glass "to Tim Ihansha."

The rest of the students and staff stood up, glasses and goblets in hand as their voices echoed " _To Tim_ …!"

Tim smiled and nodded, knowing he deserved the adoration, as he and the rest of the congregation began the feast.

Tim was tired, and despite the magnificent spread in front of him, he just wasn't in the mood to eat. It was a feeling he couldn't quite describe. He'd spent so many years training, working to avenge his sister and defeat Voldemort, and now that he'd finally done it, he'd felt like a piece of himself had been put to rest. Tim licked his lips, quietly getting up from his seat as the rest of the staff and students were busy eating.

Moving away from the High Table, he stepped down off the platform, walking in-between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables as he made his way out the doors. A few students noticed Tim walk by, but thought nothing of it, as Tim was someone who usually did whatever he felt like.

Tim moved out into the Entrance courtyard. The cawing and cooing of birds in the distance took Tim's mind away from the rubble strewn around the courtyard. Tim walked out into the moonlight, suddenly hearing the sound of rushing footsteps behind him.

"Professor, _wait_!"

Tim turned around and saw Hermione approach, a smile quickly coming to his face. "Miss Granger. Is everything okay?"

"You killed Voldemort. You've avenged your sister. So is that it? Are you leaving now?" she asked.

Tim chuckled, admiring the fact that Hermione obviously cared about him. "Of course not. I still have to teach you lot. I'm not leaving here until you've all graduated from here, at least. Now run along and finish your dinner, Miss Granger."

"You can call me Hermione, i-if you want…" she mumbled, her cheeks reddening.

"Only if you call me Tim." He smiled, flashing his pearly white teeth.

"Deal. Tim." She smiled back.

"Then I'll see you in class, Hermione."

* * *

 **To everyone who has stuck with this story all the way to the end, thank you. I hope you enjoyed it.**

 **Tim Ihansha will return.**


End file.
